


Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

by verhalen



Series: Revolving Doors [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), AU, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 21st Century, Alternate Universe - Earth, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bar Room Brawl, Bathing/Washing, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Cats, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Clothes Ripping, Cock Docking, Cock Piercing, Crack Treated Seriously, Cross of Changes - Multiverse, Cross-Generation Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Developing Relationship, Docking, Doggy Style, Dooku Is Bad At Feelings, Dooku Is So Done, Dooku Is The Embodiment Of The Grandma Learns How To Internet Meme, Dorks in Love, Drinking, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Fireplace sex, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Floor Sex, Food Fight, Food Sex, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sensitives On Earth, Force Sensitivity, Frottage, Gay Sex, Generation Gap, Gratuitous Icelandic, Gratuitous Smut, Grief/Mourning, Han And Leia Argue Over Stupid Shit In Every Universe, Holidays, How Are These Even Tags, Iceland, If you only read one work by me, Illness, Kylo Ren Is A Rock Star, LGBTQ Themes, Lapdance, M/M, Magical Realism, Making Love, Marijuana, Massage, Masturbation, May/December Relationship, Mile High Club, Modern AU, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Obi-Wan Drinks: It's Canon, Oil, Older Man/Younger Man, Opposites Attract, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Past Child Abuse, Pillow Fights, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Protective Dooku, Qui-Gon Is A Troll, Qui-Gon Meddles In Dooku's Life, Relationship Issues, Religious Discussion, Religious Fanaticism, Rimming, Road Trips, Romantic Comedy, Sassy Qui-Gon Jinn, Schmoop, Shower Sex, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Snowball Fight, Some Humor, Strip Tease, Stripping, Sweet/Hot, Tattoos, That Fic Where Dooku Learns What Grindr Is, Trans Female Character, Vacation, Voyeurism, Wakes & Funerals, Wall Sex, Wet & Messy, dad jokes, tea is serious business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 141,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: In London, Ion Nicolae Dooku befriends Sören, a young artist.  The friendship grows close, and then, on a trip to Iceland, it gets complicated.  Can Dooku open his heart?  Can Sören teach an old dog new tricks?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same "Cross of Changes multiverse" continuity as the [Hearts of Darkness](https://archiveofourown.org/series/674996) and [Return of the Je'daii series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/673343), where this universe exists thanks to [Revan and Malak doing Sith ritual](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8249651). Sören Sigurdsson is this universe's counterpart of Severin Yusanis/Severus Inari, in a 21st-century Earth setting. (Also, this story is a bit more lighthearted than those two series. ~~Yay, no Galactic warfare and genocide, for once!~~ )
> 
> Also a few important points to keep in mind:
> 
> -This is an AU set on 21st-century Earth. I have modified the names of canon characters to make them fit in better to this setting, such as Han Solo becoming Hans Sulu, and Joaquin Gonzalez aka "Qui-Gon".
> 
> -There is some fiddling with ages here. Dooku and Qui are still ten years apart, but the age difference between Qui and Obi is not _as_ strong here (Obi is in his thirties). Time got messed with enough by the Force Powers That Be that in this universe Leja (Leia) is more of a contemporary with Qui, in her fifties, as opposed to being much younger than Obi in canon. If Leja's father was a special Chosen One we will never know because Anakin isn't in this fic, having died.
> 
> -Kylo Ren has a twin brother named Matt in this series, obviously not in canon. (Again, more monkeying around from the Force Powers That Be.)
> 
> -Dooku is on the stern, serious side, but not at all evil here.

"Dammit, will this infernal contraption _ever_ stop making so much bloody noise."

Ion Nicolae Dooku reached for the cell phone going off in his pocket. Even though he was a well-established barrister who made a handsome salary, he still had a flip phone, considered woefully old-fashioned by most who knew him, even those in his age group. Yet, this was all new to Dooku, who was in his late sixties and remembered the days before cell phones even existed. He felt like the world was changing at a pace he couldn't keep up with, and the cell phone in his pocket was like a ticking timebomb, an unpleasant reminder of his age and impending mortality.

He at least had finally caught onto the concept of ringtones, if only for the convenience of knowing who was calling before he saw their number. He had an Enya ringtone - "Boadicea" - for his unofficially-adopted daughter, Leja Bollasdottir. The phone was also vibrating, which jarred him.

Leja had herself been legally adopted, by Bolli Ornasson, an Icelander that Dooku had met at Oxford's law school, decades ago. Bolli and his wife Bría couldn't have children, so they adopted Leja and her brother Lúkas, the children of a Romanian countess and her non-aristocrat, working-class American lover, which had caused a small amount of scandal in the noble family; when the children were infants, left with a governess, the countess and her lover had been killed while traveling, in a plane crash caused by terrorists. Dooku was himself descended from a Romanian count who had fled Romania for the United Kingdom at the turn of the century to avoid the scandal of marrying outside nobility - the family surname had been misspelled upon arrival in the British Isles. Dooku's father had been very proud of their background, and Dooku had learned fluent Romanian and had been to Romania a few times over the course of his lifetime. As such, he asked by Bolli to teach the children about their Romanian heritage, even as they were immersed in Icelandic and British culture, going back and forth between Reykjavik and London. Leja saw Dooku as being like another father to her, and as he'd never had children of his own, he doted on her as if she were his own.

Usually, he didn't ignore her calls. He'd been late coming home from the office, and she'd called five times while he was in transit. He was still stressed out from work and the late commute, and not really in the mood to talk to anyone, but he took the call anyway, this time. "Hello."

"Dad, why didn't you pick up the phone earlier? Are you all right?"

"I'm sorry, dearest. I just got home, and couldn't answer before now. How are you? Is anything wrong?" Dooku figured if Leja had called him five times within the last hour, it must be urgent.

"You haven't RSVPed yet for the gallery opening tomorrow."

Dooku took a deep breath. Indeed, he had not.

There was another pang of guilt. He wanted to be supportive of Leja's endeavors, especially as a great lover of the arts himself and _especially_ because Leja had been working towards owning her own gallery for years. She was married to an entrepreneur, a half-Danish, half-Japanese man named Hans Sulu, but she wanted to do this independently, without her husband's money. So she'd run a small business for years, saving up the funds needed. And finally, her goal was complete. Dooku was proud of her ambition and determination.

But Dooku was also an introvert. He'd had a rough week at work, more difficult than usual, in the middle of a heated court case. The gallery opening party started within less than two hours after his expected arrival home from work. He wanted to just put on pajamas, the BBC, and unwind with a hot cup of tea, not be expected to put on the same social mask he had to wear all day whether he wanted to or not.

Leja knew this. And normally would not ask it of him. And yet, this was an important event for her. She was finally making a dream come true. Dooku opened his mouth to come up with some excuse, and then slammed it shut, sensing the pouty face on the other end of the phone. Since she was five years old, Leja had figured out how to make Dooku indulge her. She just had to give him sad eyes.

"I will be there," Dooku said, finally, "but I may be a little late. It has been a bad week -"

"The party ends at midnight, so as long as you're there before then, you're good, já?"

"All right -"

A little squeal. " _ThankyouDadImsoexcitedIcantwaityourethebestDadIloveyou!!!_ "

Dooku chuckled, not able to help himself. "I'll see you tomorrow night, dear heart."

"Yes! You will!"

Leja hung up, and then Dooku pressed his forehead against the foyer wall with a little sigh. He would rather eat bugs than spend a night surrounded by people, but... he would do it for his daughter. One of the few rays of warmth in his life.

His cat Dragos greeted him at the door, rubbing up against his legs with a chirp. Dragos was another one of the things that kept him going. Dragos was an old man now - fourteen - but he would always be Dooku's baby; Dooku had Dragos from the time he was a small kitten. Dooku reached down to stroke his absurdly fluffy, silver companion, who responded with a throaty purr and then flopped down on his side for belly rubs. Dooku obliged, stooping down for better access, and then rose to his feet. "You must be hungry," he said, as if Dragos could understand him. He made his way to the kitchen, and Dragos trotted behind him, knowing what the kitchen meant, eager for a can of food.

As Dooku produced a can of the cat's favorite food - compensation for being home later than usual - thunder rumbled outside. It was starting to rain on Dooku's journey home, and he'd made it just before the storm hit. The rain was coming down now, and after Dooku fed the cat, he decided to sit and watch the storm for awhile. He found thunderstorms relaxing - he'd always had an affinity for nature... the Living Force felt strongest when the weather changed.

Dooku made tea, then walked down the hallway, midway between his drawing room and bedroom, and placed the tea service next to him as he sat on a cushioned ledge designed as a window seat. Then he used the Force to bring his teacup over, and sipped until he needed to refill his cup, and used the Force to pour a fresh one. 

Part of his stress, and why he disliked being in crowds of people, was having to contain himself, not demonstrate displays of the Force in public. The world was not a kind place for the Force sensitive. Lúkas and Leja had been taught that when Dooku realized their Force sensitivity. Leja was better at hiding this than Lúkas was - Lúkas was living the life of a hermit now, not wanting to deal with the pressure of having to "fit in" and "pretend to be normal". Dooku lived in the heart of London, a house in Bermondsey, and his job as a barrister involved clients, court cases, and dealing with other barristers. But even as he'd had over six decades of experience with learning to not call attention to his use of the Force, it wasn't _easy_ , and Dooku sometimes envied Lúkas his decision. Still, Dooku might as well have been a hermit, a lifelong bachelor, no children of his own blood... precious few friends...

 _Alone._ That was, just as much as his dislike of hiding his Force sensitivity, the biggest reason why Dooku didn't like the type of gatherings he agreed to attend tomorrow night - they were a reminder of how alone he felt in the world. Indeed, the Force had set him apart, put him on this path of loneliness.

Dragos meowed and gingerly hopped up on a footstool Dooku kept near the window seat, to climb onto Dooku's lap. Dragos didn't like the storms, but he craved affection, and Dooku welcomed it now.

 

_

 

A little over ninety minutes after the gallery opening celebration began, Dooku arrived. He'd asked Leja about the dress code and was informed tuxedos were too formal, but "casual dress" was not in his vocabulary either, so this evening he wore a simple black tunic over black trousers, with a brown cape styled after a painting he'd seen once of one of his ancestors. The six-foot-five, caped, silver-haired and bearded man commanded attention when he entered a room, but he was uncomfortable with it nonetheless. He did a quick scan of the gallery, intending to make a beeline for Leja. Of course, Leja was occupied, schmoozing with guests.

So he decided to look at the paintings. Most of them were not to his taste, too modern, too abstract, so he didn't spend much time looking at the ones that disinterested him. And then there was one that stood out from the rest.

What caught his eye first was the aurora, in the shape of a phoenix, shades of teal, green, blue, and cyan, melting into a sea of stars. The phoenix and night sky were over an ocean, turbulent with storms... the ocean was also on fire, a strange green fire that seemed supernatural in origin. The fiery, stormy ocean crashed onto a stony shore, and a few rose petals were scattered on the shore, the rose itself - white, tipped with red - being washed into the sea.

It hit him - a chill in the spine, gooseflesh breaking out on his arms, hair standing on end, feeling wrenched in the heart and gut, eyes burning with sudden tears that he dared not shed around these strangers; he was not even comfortable crying privately, and rarely did so. He didn't know how to put it in words, but the painting affected him, visceral and powerful.

Before he turned away from the painting he caught a glimpse of the artist's name - Sören Sigurdsson. Icelandic, by the looks of it; probably knew Leja personally.

There were a few more paintings that weren't to Dooku's taste, by different artists, and then there was another one from this Sören Sigurdsson. This one was of a waterfall in the heart of a forest, with a rainbow shining in the falls, cascading into a lagoon. The forest itself was lush, exquisitely detailed, and as Dooku continued looking at it he noticed the details included old dead forest and new growth growing around and even from the dead parts. Close to the lagoon, Dooku noticed a small stone circle that was also ringed with mushrooms, and gold glowing wisps that seemed to dance around the circle. And then Dooku noticed the same small gold wisps flittering through the forest.

_Qui would love this._

Joaquin Gonzalez, or Qui-Gon as many called him, had been mentored by Dooku when Qui was in law school... and then Qui had dropped out and become a veterinarian. The decision was not a complete shock to Dooku - Qui had an affinity for nature, and they had taken day trips into the countryside. Qui was also highly sensitive, as well as Force sensitive, and the call of the Force had made him too sensitive for the pressures of a courtroom; caring for animals was more his speed. Dooku had tried to be supportive of Qui's decisions, but their friendship had grown strained nonetheless. And that had been painful. Dooku still thought of the younger man who was like a son to him - Qui was Leja's age - and being reminded of that here and now hurt, though there was also the warmth of nostalgia to soften the blow.

A few more not interesting or just ugly paintings by other artists, and then another one from Sören Sigurdsson. Dooku saw the title of the painting before the canvas itself - it was entitled "Unfolding". Another seascape, a grey gloomy day, grey-green tides rolling into sand and scattered shells. In the bottom right corner of the painting, there was a close-up of a spiral shell in a pale, weathered palm... and within that shell was space, stars and nebulas. A few stars floating up from the shell, shimmering in the air.

Dooku's breath caught in his throat.

A soft male voice spoke near him. "You like?"

Dooku turned and looked. There was a young man, a few inches shorter than him. A nape-length mop of curly dark hair, neatly trimmed dark beard and mustache framing full lips - a shy, yet radiant smile. Dark eyes, like his... sad but kind, like his. The young man was pale in contrast to his olive complexion, and the young man was wearing a black ruffled shirt, like a pirate's, and black leather pants. A slim, lithe figure. Black leather ankle-high boots that Dooku guessed were Doc Martens from the yellow stitching. He smelled a little like lavender and cloves, and as he fidgeted with his hands Dooku saw the younger man's nails were painted black, with a touch of violet sparkles. Dooku's nostrils flared - he didn't approve of the nail polish. But he remained polite, nonetheless.

"Yes, I do," Dooku said. "I like the other two I've seen from this artist so far. He is quite talented."

The young man's smile turned into a grin, showing his teeth, and then back to the shy smile. He reminded Dooku of Dragos getting eager when he saw cat food or a treat bag. "I am the artist," he said. He had an accent - an Icelandic accent, with the lilt, the rolling of the r's. "Sören Sigurdsson." He put out his hand, to shake.

Then Sören said, "I have two others in this exhibit. I'll show you."

Dooku followed Sören to the other side of the gallery. "Edge of the World" featured a sole figure at the edge of a mountain, with a beautiful view of sunset clouds and a town or city below, tinged with the dying light. Then Dooku noticed the figure on the mountain wasn't just looking at the clouds or what was down below, but another human figure that was flying in the clouds, smiling, wild and peaceful all at once. "Turtle" was a large sea turtle, swimming underwater, and then Dooku noticed the turtle's eyes were starry space again, and the turtle's shell had glowing knotwork and runes, and the turtle seemed to be swimming towards a glowing portal. The other aquatic life, as well as the ripples and bubbles in the water, was lovingly detailed.

Dooku was impressed, not just by the art itself, the intricate detail and beautiful colors, but he was also impressed with the depth of metaphor and emotion that had gone into the work. It spoke to him, _sang_ to him. Dooku wanted to say something about it, but all he could say was, "Very nice." And then, immediately, felt like an ass.

Sören smiled again, and before Dooku could go on to apologize for the trite words, Leja's voice called out, "Father! Sören! I see you two have met."

Leja came over to them - she was wearing a white pantsuit, with her hair in a braided bun. She hugged Sören, who leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks, and then she gave Dooku a warm hug. She barely came up to Dooku's elbow; he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

Leja and Sören made some small talk in Icelandic while Dooku felt awkward, and then Sören got dragged away by someone wanting to inquire about a painting, and Leja was sucked into the whirlwind of gallery guests once more. Dooku went over to the spread of hors d'oeuvres - there was also wine tasting, but because he was driving home, he didn't want to imbibe too much. He had a nibble, and then went back to look at Sören's paintings again. And again.

The images were doing things to him, hitting nerves, pressing feelings that Dooku didn't know were there, and it was the wrong time for this. Between the waves of emotion and the noise in the Force from so many people in one place at once, Dooku felt an anxiety attack coming on, and politely excused himself to the restroom.

Mercifully, he was alone. He turned on the faucet, splashed cold water on his face, and took a few deep breaths. A little undignified whimper came out of him, and he immediately began clearing his throat to compensate -

\- and then he found out he was not, in fact, alone in the restroom. Behind a closed stall, he could hear the sound of crying.

When it didn't subside after a moment, Dooku's instincts got the better of him. He walked to the stalls, knocked lightly on the door, and inquired, "Are you all right?"

No response, and then a minute later, a voice came back, "Jæja, I'm fine. I just..."

It was Sören's voice.

A nervous laugh, and then Sören continued, "Anxiety. Lots of people..."

"I understand." Dooku sighed. "Believe me, I understand." Dooku leaned against the divider between the stalls. "Shall I leave you be, or...?"

"Uh, no. Please stay for a minute." The door cracked open, and Dooku stepped aside so Sören could come out of the stall. He'd been wearing mascara and eyeliner, which was running from his tears, and his hair was disheveled, his face flushed. For some reason this didn't take away from his attractiveness at all, despite the damned nail polish -

_\- why am I looking at him like this -_

\- and the shy smile again.

"I'm sorry," Dooku said.

"You didn't do anything wrong...?"

"Your paintings are more than very nice." Dooku folded his arms. "They're... magnificent. I don't know if you have a prospective buyer, but I would like to buy them and I would like to commission you."

Sören's face flushed even more now. He stammered, and then he said, "You don't have to buy them just because you feel sorry for me having an anxiety attack -"

Dooku's eyebrows went up. "It's not because of that. I'm in here, trying not to cry, because whatever magic it is you wield with a brush, affected me that much." And then Dooku felt immediately self-conscious for saying that.

"I put my heart and soul into those," Sören said, "so hearing you say that means... a lot." Sören started crying again. "Ah shit, I'm sorry."

Dooku produced a handkerchief from his trousers pocket, and handed it to Sören, who promptly soaked it as he tried to pull himself together. Then Sören noticed he got mascara and eyeliner all over it. "Oh no, I ruined it... this is expensive, já? Your handkerchief probably costs the same as one of my paintings." Sören smiled, and frowned, and smiled again. "I can buy you a new one -"

"It's not anything that a good wash wouldn't fix."

"OK, but you shouldn't have to pay for cleaning it."

"You don't have to -"

"No, I insist. I'll have it dry cleaned the next time I... uh... do dry cleaning." Something about that statement told Dooku that the young man didn't have dry cleaning done very often.

"If you insist," Dooku said.

They walked over to the sink together, and Dooku turned on the faucet to put some more cold water on his face again. He used his hand... and out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the faucet at the sink where Sören was, turned without Sören touching it. A little gasp escaped Dooku's lips before he could stop himself, and then Sören froze. A few seconds later, Sören waved his hand and said in a firm voice, "You didn't see that."

"That doesn't work on me," Dooku said.

Sören glared at him, and Dooku glared back. Dooku then responded by turning off both faucets without touching them.

Sören's jaw dropped, and Dooku gave him a small smile. But in the Force, he could feel Sören's anxiety building again, this time about to become full-on panic - Sören wasn't prepared to be in this kind of situation.

"Here," Dooku said. He pulled out a pen and a notepad from his trouser pocket. "I'm going to give you my cell. Please call me when you have that laundered -" He gestured to the handkerchief with his pen. "And we can go somewhere and have tea, discuss your paintings, sales, a commission... and what happened just now, if you feel safe doing so."

Sören took the paper with Dooku's cell number on it, and then rushed out of the restroom without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

Dooku didn't expect Sören to call him immediately, so he was not particularly surprised when the day after the gallery opening, there was no call. He was a bit more surprised when one day turned into three, and by the time of the fifth day, Dooku began to assume there would be no call.

Dooku was however still interested in the paintings - and somewhat disappointed that he wasn't going to get a chance to get to know the man who had painted them. He decided to call Leja, and see if she could coordinate the purchase of those paintings, and possibly contacting Sören for a commission. But he didn't state that as his business when he called her - he genuinely wanted to see his daughter, and have a _real_ opportunity to catch up. It had been too long.

Leja suggested they go for Indian food. Dooku got a reservation, and showed up early, and was brought to the table right away; he was there when Leja showed up. Dooku was in his usual "evening out" attire - black tunic and trousers with brown cape. Leja wore a steel blue pantsuit, hair in its usual braided bun. Sapphires gleamed in her ears, and Dooku had no doubt they were the real article.

"You didn't bring Hans with you?" Dooku asked.

"He had to work late," Leja said, "but he says hello."

Dooku nodded. He passed Leja a menu, even though he knew she would probably order chicken tikka, as she always did, and he would order lamb vindaloo, as he always did; they also ordered a plate of samosa pastries to share. A basket of fresh naan was set down, and Dooku and Leja broke bread together.

"Thank you for having me at the gallery opening," Dooku said.

"Thank you for coming," Leja said. "I know you don't like crowds of people, and it means a lot that you were willing to endure that for me."

"Well, I do enjoy art," Dooku said. "There was one artist in particular - you and he spoke briefly while I was there -"

"Ah yes, Sören." Leja nodded.

"I take it you and he met during one of your trips to Reykjavik?"

A pause, and Leja laughed nervously. Dooku braced himself. Leja said, "His brother is dating my son."

"Which one?"

This had been the first time Leja had voluntarily brought up her sons in months. She had twins, Matt and Ben. Matt had left the UK five years ago and was now living in Canada, working as a radar technician. Ben had left for Japan around the same time Matt left, and Ben was why Leja didn't like to bring up the boys; Hans had encouraged Ben to go to Japan, being that he was half-Japanese and Ben a quarter and some of the Sulu family was still there, but after he'd lived in Tokyo for awhile Ben changed his name to Kylo Ren, started a visual kei band called the Knights of Ren, and the Knights of Ren had recently become internationally famous... or, more accurately, infamous. The Knights of Ren had evolved from a more generic visual kei band into a bit of a shock rock sensation, with Kylo Ren pulling outrageous stunts onstage and inciting controversy that rivaled that of Ozzy Osbourne, Alice Cooper, and Marilyn Manson. One of the many controversies of the Knights of Ren was claiming to be vampires, and Kylo Ren had also claimed to completely disavow his family per "an ancient vampire oath" - Leja and Hans and Matt had no contact with Kylo after this happened, despite trying to get in touch with him. Some months back, Marilyn Manson had mocked Kylo Ren in the press, calling him a "wannabe" and telling him "call your mom, you pathetic fuck", and Kylo's response had been to burn a gigantic effigy of Marilyn Manson in Paris while singing the hit "Burn Hot Topic"; over the last few months a rash of masked, cowl-wearing youths had begun setting fire to Hot Topic stores in the US screaming "FUCK MARILYN".

"Matt," Leja said.

Dooku nodded, breathing a small sigh of relief that this wouldn't involve the latest Kylo Ren drama - he was already tired of seeing it on the news.

"Sören has a brother and a sister," Leja said. "I'm friendly with the sister."

The way Leja said "friendly" made Dooku raise an eyebrow - Leja and Hans were in an open relationship, and Dooku was aware Leja was bisexual. Dooku wanted to comment on "friendly", especially since Sören and his siblings seemed to be the same age of Leja's children, but he chose not to.

"Anyway," Leja said, "Sören has been in London for awhile, and I promised him when the gallery opened he could showcase there. As you've noticed, he's _very_ talented and I would love to see his work get more exposure. He deserves to be able to make a living from his art and dedicate his life to that if he wants to."

"He does," Dooku said. "I was quite impressed with him." Dooku caught himself. "Er, his paintings."

Now it was Leja's turn to raise an eyebrow, and her lips quirked. Before she could say anything in response, the waiter brought their food, steaming hot from the kitchen. Dooku poured both himself and Leja a cup of tea.

They ate while their food was hot, and then midway into their meal Leja wouldn't let it go. "So Sören's _work_ caught your eye, did it?"

"I found it fascinating."

"I bet you did."

Dooku glared, and then his phone went off.

Any other time Dooku would have been annoyed to be interrupted in the middle of dinner, but now it was a lifesaver. Dooku reached for the flip phone in his pocket. He didn't recognize the number on the other end. "Hello," he said.

_Click._

"Hm." Dooku put the phone down on the table, next to his plate, and resumed eating. Leja was dipping her naan in the sauce now, almost finished with her meal. A minute later, Dooku's phone went off again. It was the same number. " _Hello,_ " Dooku snapped.

A deep breath. "Er, hello... um... you know, you never gave me your name."

It took a few seconds for it to register with Dooku, and then he recognized the lilt, the rolling r's, the soft voice. "Sören. Hello."

"Hello... you."

Dooku laughed nervously. "My name is Ion Nicolae Dooku. Everyone calls me by my surname, Dooku."

"...Why?"

"They just do." Dooku cleared his throat. "Sören, I'm in the middle of dinner here -"

"HI SÖREN," Leja yelled, waving.

"Oh, is that Leja?" Sören raised his voice so Leja could hear, and Dooku had to move the phone away from his ear. " _Halló Leja, hvað segirðu?_ "

" _Allt fínt, takk!_ " Leja laughed. 

Dooku put the phone back to his ear. "Yes, as you can tell, I'm having dinner with Leja, so perhaps you should call me back later?"

"Jæja, but this won't take long, já? I have your handkerchief."

The way Sören said "handkerchief", Dooku found it oddly adorable, and picturing Sören say it made him smile. He felt a little flutter in his stomach, and then immediately kicked himself internally, feeling foolish for having such a reaction, especially at his age, to someone Sören's age. "Oh, you did have it laundered?"

"I told you I would. And you wanted to talk to me about a commission?"

"I did. I'm having Leja handle the aspect of buying the paintings currently in the gallery, when we're finished with dinner here, but perhaps we could get together so you could help me find suitable spots to hang them in my home?"

"I, uh, don't go to strangers' houses on the first meeting? No offense. We could maybe go have lunch or dinner somewhere first and then I'll see if I'm comfortable going to your house at a later date?"

"Fair enough." Dooku had seen enough about predators and kidnappings on the news to understand Sören's caution, caution probably intensified by Dooku knowing Sören was Force-sensitive. Dooku pulled out a pocket calendar and thumbed through the pages. "I have the weekend free, how does Saturday afternoon sound?" It was Thursday evening, so that was a day and a half away.

"2 PM?"

"2 PM is perfect. Where would you like to meet?"

Sören suggested a pub in Southwark. That was a bit working-class for Dooku, and he would have gladly paid for Sören to eat somewhere more upscale, but he could sense in the Force that Sören was already nervous, never mind feeling indebted to someone who was still a stranger, so Dooku agreed.

"All right, I will see you then," Sören said. "Have a good evening, Nico."

Sören hung up before Dooku could tell him _nobody calls me Nicolae_. He knew from years around Icelanders that it was convention to use a first name rather than surname with Icelandic names, but he wasn't an Icelander...

When Dooku flipped his phone closed, the amused look on Leja's face amused and infuriated him all at once.

"What?" Dooku snapped, glaring.

"You're blushing," Leja said.

"I just ate spicy food. It's normal to be a little flushed -"

"Dad, I've seen you eat lamb vindaloo dozens of times and not flush like that," Leja said. "You got a twinkle in your eye when you asked me about Sören. It's all right to fancy him, he's very hot."

"Have you...?"

"No. He's also very gay." Leja smirked. "Up until now, I didn't know you were."

Dooku wished he could use the Force to drill a hole in the floor and crawl there and die. "I don't know what I am," Dooku said. "Just an old man, who's been married to his job for the better part of forty years."

"I know you're lonely, Dad," Leja said.

Dooku sighed. He wasn't going to deny that some part of him craved companionship and touch, but he wasn't the type of person to have someone for the sake of having someone.

"Anyway," Leja said, "I hope this date with Sören goes well."

"It's not... a date."

Leja smirked. "OK. If you say so."

" _Check, please._ "


	3. Chapter 3

It was one thing for Dooku to know logically that he'd stick out like a sore thumb at a working-class pub in Southwark, and it was entirely another to experience that firsthand. It was an unseasonably warm late October day so Dooku had left the cape at home, but even in black tunic and trousers he was overdressed, and got some odd looks as he walked in. He took a table in the corner - within sight of the door. He didn't know that Sören was already there - he gasped when he saw Sören turn away from the bar, carrying two pints.

Sören was wearing faded jeans and a Joy Division T-shirt, "goth" enough to stand out without being too conspicuous. Dooku noticed Sören's nails were still painted black, this time glittering with blue sparkles. Sören otherwise did not seem to be wearing any makeup, and Dooku doubted Sören could get away with obvious makeup in a place like this. It was also the first time Dooku noticed both the younger man's ears were pierced, wearing two sets of small silver hoops, and with a short-sleeved shirt, Dooku could see both of Sören's forearms were tattooed, his left arm with flames of fire, his right arm with waves of the sea.

After Sören put their pint glasses on the table, he pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Dooku. It was neatly folded, and smelled freshly laundered. "Thank you very much," Dooku said.

A waitress came over. Sören ordered fish and chips, and Dooku decided to follow suit. "Two separate checks, please," Sören told her.

Sören raised his glass, and Dooku did as well. " _Skál_ ," Sören said.

" _Skál_ ," Dooku replied.

Sören knocked back his pint. Dooku wasn't much of a beer drinker, but he didn't want to be rude, so he sipped his more slowly.

"So you bought my paintings," Sören said. "All of them that were in the gallery."

"I did."

"Thank you," Sören said. "That will pay my rent for the next few months."

Dooku cringed despite himself. "What do you usually do to pay the bills?"

"I'm a barista." Sören gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Up until now, art hasn't really made money."

"Just a barista? You're cultured enough to be an artist, have you gone to university?"

Sören nodded. "I went to med school, actually." Sören closed his eyes and sighed. "I had a lot of anxiety when I was a med student and I... eventually had a bit of a breakdown when I did a clerkship. Didn't finish school. Couldn't. Art helped me survive."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

An awkward silence. Sören gestured to Dooku. "What do you do? Obviously something important."

"I'm a barrister," Dooku said.

"Figures. I would have otherwise guessed banker, accountant, corporate something or other, one of those suit types." Sören smirked. "Where do you live, somewhere posh, right?"

"Bermondsey."

Sören nodded. "Not as posh as I expected but still mad decent."

"Where do you live?"

"Greenwich."

That didn't surprise Dooku. But it also pleased him; it was a ten-minute drive from his place if they ever got that far. _Already you want to see him again. You don't even know him. You fool._

"How do you like living in the UK?" Dooku asked, between sips of his pint. "How long have you been here?"

"I've been here two years now," Sören said. "And it's all right, I guess? I get homesick for Iceland still, but I came here hoping I'd have better success as an artist."

"Your English is very good."

"Uh, já, they teach English in our schools because most of the world doesn't speak Icelandic."

Dooku knew this - every Icelander he'd dealt with spoke excellent English - and he felt even more like a fool. His face burned.

Sören laughed, taking it in stride. "It's all right, at least you didn't ask me if I've ever seen a polar bear or which famous Viking am I descended from, or 'do you know Björk?' or whatever."

"Oh dear heavens, have people actually asked you that?"

"Yes." Sören nodded, continuing to laugh - Dooku couldn't help laughing too, it was infectious, and he loved the way Sören's smile lit up his face, seemed to light up the entire room. The pub atmosphere had been getting to Dooku, but now he was relaxed. "When I want to be a complete troll, I've answered such questions with 'Björk and I wrestled a polar bear together, once. Wearing Viking helmets and nothing else.'"

Dooku laughed out loud. He felt immediately self-conscious of how loud his laughter rang out, but Sören just laughed harder, and that made it better.

"Obviously," Sören said, "I don't know Björk, though I wish I did! Her music is amazing."

"I've never listened to Björk," Dooku admitted.

"I wouldn't expect someone your age to."

Dooku snorted. "Listen. I will have you know, young man, that I am much cooler than I look. As I was driving here, I was listening to Black Sabbath."

"Oh really?" Sören's eyebrows went up. "You like metal?"

"I do. I don't like all of it - like that rap-rock that calls itself metal, Limp Scone or whatever its name is -"

"Limp Bizkit." Sören cracked up laughing. " _Limp Scone._ " He laughed so hard he started tearing up.

"But Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Dio, Metallica... I like this. I own a motorbike and once in awhile I enjoy riding out into the country blasting metal as I ride."

"Wow." Sören's eyes widened. "That's... impressive."

Dooku could sense across the Force that Sören was picturing this, and wondering if Dooku wore leather pants when he did, and Sören liked that mental image. Dooku felt himself get flustered again. "Have you ever ridden a motorbike?"

"No, I have not," Sören said.

"I highly recommend it." Dooku smirked. "As you can see, you cannot judge a book by its cover."

"Clearly not." Sören smiled. "But you still seem pretty uptight."

Dooku nodded. "And you can tell."

Sören also nodded. "And you know that I can tell."

Dooku continued nodding. "We should talk about that, but perhaps not here."

"I don't know what there is to discuss about it," Sören said. "It's not something I advertise, and I take it you don't either."

"No," Dooku said. "But it's always good to... know others. And sometimes, get tips from those who have been living with it a long time."

"I will take that under advisement."

Their food came, and Sören ordered another pint. Dooku did not, because he was driving. He cocked his head to one side and asked Sören, "How did you get here?"

Sören sat back in his chair, and between mouthfuls of chips he said, "Well you see, Nico, when two people love each other very much..."

Dooku almost spat his fish. "You know what I mean, you brat." This was also the second time Sören had called him Nico, and he was considering his response.

"I took the bus," Sören said.

"I'm driving you back home," Dooku said.

"I can take the bus. I'm not going to be too intoxicated for that."

"I know," Dooku said, though he wasn't entirely sure of that - he was a lightweight with alcohol himself, many Force-sensitives were. "But I'd rather drive you back home." Dooku's eyes met Sören's. "I'm not a predator. If I was, doing what you know I can do, you'd already be in trouble."

"It isn't that," Sören said. "You're really posh and I live in..."

Dooku shook his head dismissively. "I'm sure," Dooku said, "but that doesn't matter to me. You're you."

Sören nodded. "All right." Sören snorted. "You think I'm going to be too drunk for the bus."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to." _You can do that thing,_ Sören spoke into his mind directly. "I'm an Icelander. I could drink anyone in here under the table."

"Is that right?" came a surly voice from a nearby table.

"Já, but not today," Sören shot back, with a discrete wave of his hand.

The would-be challenger went back to minding their own business, and Dooku gave Sören a look. Sören shrugged and began devouring his fish.

After they'd finished eating, and paid separately, Dooku and Sören walked side by side out to his car. Sören let out a low whistle at the ultrasleek black Jaguar before he got in the passenger seat, and Black Sabbath started up again when the car turned on.

"I told you," Dooku said.

"Indeed you did." Sören grinned.

When the car began moving down the street, Sören turned to Dooku and said, "Mind if we take a little detour?"

"Probably not. Where to?"

"Southwark Park. It's a beautiful day and I'd like to sketch for awhile."

Dooku had no objection to this. They walked through the park together, and Sören stopped at the duck pond. Dooku sat with him, enjoying companionable silence, the peace of the autumn afternoon. Every now and again he glanced at Sören's sketching, and after awhile he was watching Sören's sketching as much as he was watching the scenery around him, fascinated by the artist at work. He could practically see gears turning and bulbs lighting up in Sören's head, he could feel Sören's creative energy in the Force and found it intoxicating.

At last Sören got up to stretch, and he and Dooku walked into the gardens and sat there, for Sören to sketch some more. Sören asked Dooku to sit a distance away, and Dooku respected that, thinking maybe he was making Sören nervous by watching, but when they got up to head back to the car, Dooku stole a look at Sören's sketch pad and noticed that Sören had been sketching him. He didn't know what to make of that - he felt honored and shy all at once.

Sören gave Dooku directions for the way back to his place - he did indeed live in a more lower-class part of Greenwich - and as they pulled into the last street, before Sören could give Dooku the building number, his eyes widened with alarm. "I need you to pull over and let me out," Sören said.

"What? Why?"

"I just saw my roommate walking down the street. She's back earlier than expected and if she sees some posh guy in a Benz bringing me home there's gonna be weird questions."

"Roommate? Or partner?" Dooku didn't like the note of irritation that had crept into his voice with the word "partner".

" _Roommate._ In case Leja didn't tell you, I'm completely fucking gay." Sören rolled his eyes. "I don't see why it would matter though unless -" Then Sören gave Dooku a knowing look, and Dooku's face burned.

Dooku could have smacked himself.

"Anyway, she'd be assuming I had a sugar daddy or... something... and I don't want her hounding me for money."

"Fair enough." Dooku pulled over. "We didn't discuss the commission."

"We can discuss it next time," Sören said. "You want to meet me at Southwark Park again next Saturday? Duck pond again? We can pack our own lunch, that way it's less awkward for you."

"That sounds good." Dooku smiled. "Saturday it is."

"Thank you, Nico."

Before Sören could get out of the car Dooku put his hand on the younger man's arm = he wasn't used to touching people, and touching Sören gave him a little bit of a shock, and not from static. Dooku's arm broke out in gooseflesh, and his cock stirred in his trousers. Sören's eyes met his, and Dooku's mouth suddenly felt very dry.

"Sören, why do you call me that? I told you everyone calls me by my surname, just Dooku. Not Nicolae."

"It seems so cold and... clinical... to call you by your last name." Sören gave a small smile. "And I'm not everyone. I don't want to be like everyone else in your life, there at an arm's length. When you appreciated those paintings, with the intensity you did, you saw my soul... fed my soul. And that means I can see yours. I can touch yours. That means... something. I don't know what, but I'd like to find out."

Sören got out of the car then, and Dooku had to take a minute before he could drive away. He felt like his head was spinning, and it wasn't the beer.


	4. Chapter 4

A week later, when Dooku arrived at Southwark Park, it was a crisp day befitting the end of October - if anything a bit too breezy; Dooku's cape billowed around him dramatically as he walked towards Sören, who had a blanket spread out on the grass, a few large, comfy-looking pillows, a sketchpad, a portable mp3 player with speakers, and a basket.

Dooku was carrying a smaller basket - though it was full - and a bottle of wine. Sören's face lit up when he looked away from his sketching and saw Dooku approaching.

"Good afternoon," Dooku said, before he sat down on the blanket.

Sören's response was to lean over and hug him.

Dooku was not used to hugs, apart from Leja, but he welcomed it rather than pushing the younger man away. Instinctively, his arms went out to hug Sören back, and Sören's response was to squeeze him tight. It felt good, enough that they lingered for a minute, and when they pulled away, Dooku could feel his face flushing again, and he didn't know what to say.

Sören shoved a grape into his mouth.

Sören had brought sandwiches of different varieties, fresh cut fruit and vegetables, and a cheesecake for dessert. Dooku had brought a pot of tea - still warm - with a tea service, and he'd spent a lot of time cooking the night before, and heated it up just before he was ready to go out. Sören's eyes widened as Dooku took it out of the basket. There were stuffed cabbage rolls, stuffed peppers, stuffed eggplants, and fishcakes, a salad of greens and garden vegetables, and assorted cheese slices and fancy crackers.

"Where did you buy all that?" Sören asked.

"I made it," Dooku said.

Sören pursed his lips. "Wow, I feel stupid with my sandwiches now... I'm not much of a cook."

"It is quite all right," Dooku said. "It's not stupid at all, it's the thought that counts."

Sören was wearing jeans, his usual Doc Martens, and a long-sleeved dark blue shirt, with a Nine Inch Nails T-shirt over it. His nails were black, again, this time with green sparkles. Dooku felt somewhat disappointed that Sören wasn't wearing short sleeves, intrigued by the ink on his forearms. Then he felt sheepish about wanting to see that.

They ate quietly as they listened to music - Sören had a metal playlist, which Dooku enjoyed. They didn't have room to finish everything, and Dooku insisted Sören take the leftovers he cooked to heat up later.

"Are you very sure?" Sören asked.

"Positive," Dooku said. Then he smiled and said, "One of these evenings, I shall have you come over and I'll cook for you."

"I would like that," Sören said. And then, "Have you hung the paintings yet, or are you still wanting me to give you input on where they would look best?"

"I'm still waiting for that input so perhaps we should plan another visit... you come over for dinner, and help me hang the paintings."

"That sounds good." Sören smiled.

"What you had in the gallery... that wasn't all of it, was it?"

Sören snorted and shook his head. "Leja will be putting another five of my paintings in the gallery soon. And... I have more besides that. I've been painting for years. This is the first time I've had my work shown anywhere."

"Really. I find that hard to believe, with your talent."

"It's difficult to make it in the art world, and a lot of making it depends on who you know," Sören said, and then added, "sometimes... often... in the biblical sense. I've had people offer to patron me or show my work if I fucked them. I'm an artist, not a whore."

That hung there, and Dooku felt almost like it was a rebuff of any interest that might have been showing, much as Dooku didn't want to admit he was somewhat interested in the younger man. Dooku cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly, and when Sören's eyes compelled him to look once more, Dooku said, nervously, "I bought your work because I wanted to, not because I'm expecting..."

"I know." Sören nodded, and Dooku relaxed a little. "The people who offered to patron me or show my work in exchange for sex didn't give a fuck about my art. But you get it. There's a genuine connection here."

Dooku breathed a small sigh of relief. He noticed then that his knee was pressing against Sören's thigh, the way they were reclining on the pillows, and Sören had made no motion to move away. Warmth flushed through him again.

"I wonder," Sören said, "how much of this is because of... well, that thing." Sören glanced around nervously to make sure they weren't being watched, and then demonstrated by using the Force to lift up his pencil from the blanket, hands-free.

"I'm sure some of it is because of that," Dooku said. "We don't know much about each other at all." He gave a small, nervous laugh. "I don't even know how old you are."

"Old enough."

The earlier statement had not been a rebuff, then. Dooku wasn't quite ready to take whatever step that offered, however, and he said, "How old? Nineteen? Twenty?"

"Thirty-two."

That was significantly older than Dooku thought - Sören looked young, despite the facial hair. Sören noticed Dooku's surprise, and nodded. "Yes. I get disbelief quite a lot, but I can show you my identification if you need it."

"I believe it." Dooku smirked. "How old do you think I am?"

"Late fifties, perhaps?"

"Late sixties. Sixty-eight, to be precise."

"Oh."

"I'll be sixty-nine in December."

Sören tried to keep a straight face at this, and failed. Dooku didn't understand why Sören found that funny, and Sören realizing Dooku didn't get it made him laugh aloud.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but are you still a virgin?" Sören asked.

Dooku cringed. He wanted to yell "what kind of question is that" and "why are you even asking", but instead he said, "Yes and no."

"What? Either you are or you aren't."

"Just before my twenty-first birthday, some of my classmates found out I hadn't had sex and paid for a lady of the evening for my twenty-first birthday. I received oral. I didn't enjoy the experience and didn't care to repeat it."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Sören shrugged. "Some people are asexual, and it's OK if you are. It's perfectly valid -"

"I'm not...?" Dooku couldn't believe he was even having this discussion. "I think it's taken me this long to admit to the fact that I play for the home team, so to speak. I work in a rather conservative establishment and times are changing now, where people are more accepting - I myself have never seen it as my business to judge what consenting adults do in their private lives - but when I was of a younger age it wasn't safe for me to try to question any of this. I would have risked my job if I spent my time working, and indulging my hobbies, rather than trying to pursue sex or relationships. But that wasn't so much because of lack of interest or lack of want... it was more fear."

"So you're gay and you've just... never been with a dude."

"Probably, and yes."

"I'll change the subject, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Sören shifted his position, but now their knees were touching instead of Dooku's knee against his thigh. "What day in December is your birthday?"

"Twenty-first."

"Ah, you're a Jól baby... and a Capricorn."

Dooku snorted. "I don't believe in astrology."

"Neither do I, but I still habitually look at my horoscope for shits and giggles." Sören smirked. "I'm a Sagittarius."

"Also December?"

"Late November. Twenty-fifth."

"That's coming up soon."

"Já, it is."

"Do you have plans?"

"I... don't know? Probably not?"

Dooku made a mental note to plan something for Sören's birthday.

Dooku realized then the wine hadn't been opened yet. He poured them each a glass, and Sören drank his quickly, Dooku more slowly. After a second glass of wine, Sören began to sketch, and Dooku looked at a novel he brought with him but his attention kept turning to Sören, pencil flying over the sketchpad, tongue poking out between his teeth, eyes present yet faraway. With the Force, Dooku suddenly saw into Sören's mind, saw visions of things Sören wanted to paint, colors dancing, worlds exploding into life...

...and then Sören felt Dooku there, witnessing the birth of creation, and _shoved_ him out of his head, hard enough that Dooku rolled as if he had been pushed, off the blanket, into the grass.

Dooku sat up, breathing hard, and brushed himself off. "My apologies," he said. "That was invasive... I didn't mean to..."

"It just happened," Sören said, "and that's what scares me. We just..."

"My teacher called it a Force bond," Dooku said.

Sören gave Dooku a puzzled look. "Force? What? And your law professor knew?"

"No, it wasn't my law professor." Dooku sighed. "This is why I felt we should talk about this. When I was a boy, I began doing things I can do now... moving objects without touching them, feeling what others are feeling, sometimes even seeing what others are thinking. I learned very quickly to hide this."

Sören nodded. "My brother, my sister, my cousin and I all have it, but we learned to hide it from people who weren't us."

"It happens that people with this gift, can often tell when other people have it, though not always, because some people are better at hiding it than others. When I was a teenager - twelve, thirteen - I had a job, running errands for a frail elderly neighbor, a little person, from India. His name was Yodha. I found out some months after I'd been working for him that the frail part was an act and he could do what I could do, but much stronger. He called it the Force, so that is the word I use, and others I know with this gift have picked it up because it's a convenient way of describing it." Dooku winced at the next part. "He was also not human. He was an alien who had arrived here a long time ago, used the Force to disguise himself as a very short human, and moved from India to the United Kingdom when people were starting to ask too many questions."

"Where is Yodha now?"

"He's passed on," Dooku said. "That I can verify, I was with him when he died. Leja and her brother Lúkas were also there - they got to meet him, when they were children; they called him Grandfather."

"You realize," Sören said, "you're sitting here telling me about aliens. There's weird shit..." Sören used the Force to float his pencil again. "And then there's that. That's a whole other level of crazy, and there's a part of me that doesn't want to believe you and wants to run away from the crazy man."

"I understand," Dooku said. "I also doubted my own sanity many times over the course of my association with Yodha." _Not the least of which when I dealt with his eccentricities._

"Well, I know you're not lying," Sören said, "and I know..." He shook his head. "You learn something new every day, I guess."

"You do." Dooku smiled. "Yodha taught me that, as well. 'Never too old to learn, are you,' he said."

"I imagine he found the existence of humans as shocking as we would find the existence of his people."

"Indeed," Dooku said. "And his people are almost entirely Force sensitive, so being on a world where most aren't... it was difficult for him. He was happy to find another like himself, and I learned many things from him. He taught me meditation as a tool to refresh and recharge and better tune into the Force; I meditate daily. He encouraged me to take a martial art, and learn to use a weapon to defend myself if I ever needed it. So I have studied fencing and judo. I continue to practice, even at my age."

"That explains why you're in great shape." Then Sören blushed, and Dooku felt himself blushing again, also.

"And he helped me to control and hone my abilities. We would practice things at his home; he had a room dedicated to targets and... safe explosions." Dooku chuckled, fondly. "I could do a lot of damage, for example, if I were in a situation where my life or that of others depended on it, without lifting a finger. He also taught me lessons in his garden, and out in wild nature. I have some minor healing ability, and a bit of a green thumb. Animals and children usually like me." Dooku frowned. "Most importantly, though, he helped me to understand that the Force makes us... sensitive. Attachments are particularly problematic, because of how intense they can be for us."

"And I assume that was part of why you haven't gone looking for a partner."

"Most people aren't Force sensitive," Dooku said. "Leja has had experience being with non Force sensitives and has described it as being like picking up a phone and someone's on the other line but they can't hear you. It's very one-sided. Some people can deal with that. I'd always find myself feeling... unsatisfied."

Sören nodded. "All of my partners thus far have been non Force sensitive and I can verify the 'unsatisfied' feeling. And it's also like something's off - the pitch, the rhythm - and you don't quite know what it is. You just know you feel sort of alone, even when you have someone else."

"Meanwhile, the friendships I've had with other Force sensitives... they run deep. Leja has said that intimacy with another Force sensitive is very powerful, and that intrigues me and scares me at the same time."

Sören gave a small frown, nodding. "You and Leja are the first Force sensitives I've known outside of my siblings and cousin."

"I haven't known many," Dooku said. "But what happened with us just now... we're starting to form a Force bond, as Yodha called it. The more we're around each other, the stronger it's going to get. The more we're going to have moments like that. So with that information in mind, we can either continue... this... or go our separate ways."

"I'd like to see you again," Sören said. That shy, but radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire world. "I'm not going to turn down a free meal."

Dooku laughed.

Sören and Dooku walked into the gardens, and sat for awhile, pointing out things in the scenery, or just sitting in silence. Sören resumed sketching again, and then he stopped, and just lay on his back in the grass.

"You ever just... watch the clouds?" Sören asked.

"No," Dooku said.

Sören used the Force to shove Dooku onto his back in the grass, and then Sören pointed up at the sky. "That cloud looks like a tree."

"That one looks like a rose."

"And that one is a unicorn." Sören smiled.

They played the game of identifying cloud shaped until the first golden rays of sunset began to tinge the clouds. It would get dark quickly. Upon learning that Sören had taken the bus from his flat in Greenwich to the park, Dooku once again insisted on driving him home.

"You don't drive, do you?" Dooku asked Sören.

"Uh, I don't drive here, no, because you drive on the wrong side of the road. We drive on the right in Iceland."

"It's we Brits who have it proper, the rest of the world has it backwards," Dooku scoffed.

"Well, whatever, but my brain doesn't like the adjustment. It's fine, I take the bus or Tube anywhere I need to go."

"If you do need a lift anywhere in the evening, I might be able to take you."

"I'd feel bad asking you to chauffeur me around."

"I'd feel bad if you got mugged on the Tube."

Sören rolled his eyes and snorted. "I've lived in the UK for two years and taken the Tube at least three or four times a week and never had a problem. Are you really so posh that you think everybody gets mugged on the bloody Tube?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to." Sören shook his head. "I live in a flat above the coffee shop where I work, my roommate is one of my co-workers. Before you bought all those paintings I worried about how I was going to make ends meet next month with rent and utilities. Like I worry every. Single. _Fucking._ Month. Because unlike you, I couldn't handle university and having a high-powered, important job. A 'career'." Sören sneered when he said the word "career". "That Force sensitivity you talk about... it's made my life bloody difficult. I broke down during my clerkship because I saw too much and felt too much when people were hurting, people were dying and I couldn't fix it, even if I used the Force, and using the Force came with its own set of problems. I came from nothing, I am nothing, I'm just a barista living in a low-end part of Greenwich, I'm an idiot for thinking I'm ever going to make a living from painting and I still do it anyway because I fucking have to, it's the only thing that's kept me sane all these years... and you... you think what, I live surrounded by gangbangers and hoodlums and my life is constantly in danger just because I'm poor? If you didn't know me from my art, if we just bumped into each other in the city and all you knew was that I'm some poor bastard from the wrong side of the tracks, would you think I was trying to mug you, Mr. Rich Man?"

"...Now you're over-reacting."

"No, I'm not." Sören's voice shook. "We come from two different worlds. You may get my art, but you don't know me at all and I was an arse for thinking this could work."

"What? No... Sören, please..."

"Pull over and let me out."

"You're not anywhere near your neighborhood -"

"I said pull over and _let me fucking out!_ "

Dooku did not, and Sören's response was to duck out of the car immediately, running into the middle of traffic. A car slammed ahead, about to run Sören over, and Dooku waved his hand and used the Force to throw Sören several meters past the car, so Sören spilled onto the sidewalk - fallen, but safe. Dooku drove back and forth on the same block, only leaving when he saw Sören get up, and begin walking.

Dooku came home and cried. He waited for Sören to call him, and cried. When he went to bed, he called Sören, no response, and he cried some more.

 _I'm a bloody damn fool._ Dooku had never been so ashamed in his entire life. He took the half-full bottle of wine from the picnic, drank the rest of it, and then proceeded to raid his liquor cabinet and get very, very drunk. He was going to regret it the next day, but he already had so many regrets.


	5. Chapter 5

Dooku was hung over, and his cell woke him up, sitting on his bedtable. He was of a mind to flip it open and tell whoever was on the other end to fuck off, but then he noticed it was one in the afternoon - he'd slept much later than he intended - and his cell needed to be charged, quite soon.

Dooku flipped open the phone. "Yes," he grunted.

A deep breath. "Nico."

Sören. Dooku sat up with a start, and immediately regretted it because of his throbbing head. "Sören... I'm very sorry about last night. I should have pulled over -"

"No, Nico. I'm sorry. I..." Sören sighed. "I shouldn't have blown up at you like that."

Dooku also sighed. "I don't judge you, Sören. You have done the best with what life has given you. Not everyone needs a... _career._ You would be as bad as a barrister as I would be as an artist. The kind of art you make breathes life into my life."

"How much did you drink last night?"

"A lot."

"Don't you _fucking_ do that again, because as soon as you picked up, my head started hurting."

Dooku laughed, and Sören laughed too, and then Dooku said, "I got very, very drunk because I thought I would never see you again and that just... it hurt." And then his voice broke, and he couldn't help the tears that came.

"Oh, Nico. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be crying -"

"There's nothing wrong with crying if you need to cry. None of this 'men don't cry' bullshit." Sören's voice was husky, now. "You were upset because you..."

"Whatever this is," Dooku said, "it makes my life better. It fills a void. I may not know much about you, that's true, but what I do know, I like. I don't want to lose that. I am an old man now, and I have let too much of life pass me by."

"I'm coming over."

"No," Dooku said.

"No?"

"I'll come to you. I want to see where you live. I don't care how not posh it is. You can take me around your neighborhood." Dooku rolled his eyes. "You can take me for a ride on the Tube."

"You've... never been on the Tube, have you?"

"No."

Sören laughed at this.

_

An hour later, Dooku arrived at Sören's flat, parked in front of the coffee shop where Sören worked forty hours a week. He walked up a flight of stairs and knocked on the door. A young woman answered the door, seemingly not over twenty, petite, chubby, large-breasted, wearing a pink mohawk, large gauges in her ears, many facial piercings, lots of tattoos over her arms and up her neck, a faded Sex Pistols T-shirt and red plaid flannel pajama bottoms. She took a look at Dooku, snapped gum, rolled her eyes, looked off to the side, and yelled, "Sören!"

Sören rushed to the door. Dooku had a bouquet of flowers. Sören squealed a little as he took them. "Ah shit, I need something to put these in."

The pink-haired girl produced a clean drinking glass and turned on the faucet and then Sören said, "Do we have any Sprite left?"

"A little."

"Pour it in there, já? It makes flowers last longer, I heard."

The girl went into the fridge, took out a bottle of Sprite that was mostly gone, and took a swig before pouring the rest into the glass. Sören then put the flowers in the glass and said, "Ah shit, where are my manners. Nico, this is Frankie. Frankie, this is Dooku."

Frankie waved the fingers of her left hand. "Yo," she said, and snapped gum again.

Sören was wearing his usual jeans and Doc Martens and today, a Bauhaus T-shirt. Dooku admired the ink on Sören's arms, and then noticed Frankie was noticing him looking at Sören's arms, and glaring daggers.

"I'll give you the tour, not that there's much to see," Sören said.

"Don't go in my room, it's a mess," Frankie said.

The flat was quite small. There was a kitchen area, and a shabby card table with a couple of folding chairs near a window. The living room had a beaten-up ancient couch that Sören or Frankie had attempted to make look presentable by throwing a blanket over it. There was a TV, stereo, gaming console and speakers in the living room, and a coffee table that had rock and art magazines strewn across it. Bed sheets were used as curtains, and the view of the neighborhood was mostly an alley and another set of flats, where Dooku saw neighbors outside having a screaming match. The living room led out to a small hallway. There was a bathroom that was clean but the toilet and tiling looked old, though the shower curtain had cheery fish on it and there was matching fish decor on the sink. Immediately down the hall past the bathroom was Frankie's room, and though they were told to not go in there Dooku couldn't resist looking over his shoulder and saw not only was the bed - a mattress on the floor - unmade, but the floor had a lot of dirty clothes, used dishes, soda bottles, books, magazines, and whatever else strewn across it. There were posters taped on the walls, and the curtains were a dark color, with glittery sun and moons on them, blowing in the breeze.

Sören's room was like a different world. He had a full-size mattress on a box spring - no bed frame - and his bed was made, though not as neatly as Dooku usually made his own. The comforter was dark red, and the pillows were red and black. Sören had black velvet curtains, and there were beaded curtains over them, glittering black, silver, deep red, and purple. On either side of Sören's bed there were wooden bedtables, set up with assorted scented candles. Sören had a bookshelf filled with books, a stereo in his room, and by one open window, there was an easel and a canvas, and his paints. He had two closets in his room. "One is for clothes, and the other..." Sören opened it and Dooku saw it was full of art supplies and finished paintings, the paintings protected by plastic wrap.

On top of Sören's bookshelf there were a few stuffed animals, which Dooku recognized as being mostly from _Winnie-the-Pooh_ and the _Sesame Street_ television show. "They have that in Iceland?" Dooku asked.

"Sesame Street is all over the world," Sören said. He picked up Big Bird and hugged him. "I've had this doll since I was two."

The sight of Sören hugging a Big Bird doll made Dooku feel weak, fluttery, and gave him the strange urge to rain kisses all over Sören's face. He controlled himself.

"Ey, yo," Frankie said from down the hall, "if you guys are gonna fuck in there, close your door, y'know wot I mean?"

"We are NOT going to fuck in here," Sören yelled back. "Unless you're planning on fucking your girlfriend in there while he's here, then all bets are off."

"Fuck you," Frankie said, raising her middle finger, but the tone in her voice was affectionate.

"Yeah, fuck you too," Sören said.

"Bitch."

"That's Queen Bitch to you."

Frankie stuck her tongue out at Sören, who stuck out his in return, then Frankie closed her door, and Sören gestured for Dooku to sit on the bed. There was a chair near Sören's easel, and he brought it over near the bed, sitting on it backwards. Then Sören used the Force to hit the light switch, and even though it was still daylight, Dooku could see glow in the dark stars on Sören's ceiling and walls. It made him smile.

"No, this is the best part." On Sören's bookshelf, there was a projector, which Dooku hadn't noticed between the stuffed animals, and Sören used the Force to turn it on; the projector began making auroras on the wall, rotating through colors of the rainbow.

"I have a waterfall too." Sören in fact had two waterfalls, one on each bedtable, between the scented candles. Sören turned them on, and it created a nice ambiance.

"This is actually nice," Dooku said, and then felt stupid for saying "actually", worrying about offending Sören again.

"Shit, can I get you something to drink? I have water, juice, soda..."

"Do you have tea?"

"Já, let me go make some tea."

Dooku sat in the bedroom, drinking in the energy and presence of Sören - admiring the beauty he'd made in such shabbiness, like a rose growing from concrete. A few minutes passed, and Sören came in with two mugs. They had tags sticking out of them.

"Er, what's this?" Dooku asked.

"Tea. It's Lipton..."

Dooku realized there was a bag in the mug. This was not how he took his tea. He did it the proper British way, boiling water over tea leaves. Dooku involuntarily crinkled his nose, and immediately felt bad for doing so, not wanting to be rude to his host.

"I didn't know how much sugar you wanted so I put in the amount I use for mine, just a spoonful." Sören sounded a little apologetic as he sat down.

"It's... fine. Thank you."

Sören gave Dooku a look. "It's not fine, is it."

"You're going to call me posh again."

"Just pretend it's not tea. Call it... tea substitute."

Dooku laughed at that, and politely drank the Lipton.

"You'll have to show me how you do proper tea," Sören said. "I'm more of a coffee drinker, myself."

"It's not terribly dissimilar to how you make coffee, if you boil water and pour it over the coffee grounds. But yes, I can show you how to make tea," Dooku said. _And I will buy you a better brand than Lipton._

"Are you hungry at all?"

"Not presently. But if you'd like to get a bite to eat later, that could be part of my... Tube experience."

Sören laughed. They drank their tea quietly - Sören finished his rather quickly, and then said, "Shit, it's warm today."

It was in fact warm again today, like London couldn't make up its mind whether it was September or October. Sören had a window open, but Dooku could see he was sweating a little, despite his short-sleeved shirt. "Já," Sören said, at Dooku's disbelief. "When you grow up in Iceland, apparently anything over 15 C makes you melt." Sören took his empty mug of tea into the kitchen - Dooku was still nursing his - and Sören returned with an orange popsicle.

"I didn't offer you one, but if you want one just let me know," Sören said.

"I'm fine, thank you."

Sören sat down and used the Force to retrieve his laptop from one of the bedtable shelves, pulled it over to him, opened it up, turned it on, and did some typing. As he did, Dooku watched Sören suck on the popsicle. Sören fit most of it in his mouth, which was impressive, and then Dooku's mind began to go in awkward directions. Sören sucked the popsicle slowly, then after a minute pulled the popsicle out of his mouth, gave it a few licks up and down, and sucked on just the tip. Dooku's hands were now shaking as they held the mug of tea. Sören continued to surf the Web, oblivious to the effect he was having on the old man; at last he showed Dooku a list of local restaurants on the screen.

"What we decide on depends on whether we're doing two checks or you're comfortable with me paying," Dooku said.

"I'm comfortable with you paying with the understanding that you're not buying anything but dinner," Sören said. "If we ever... it's not going to be because I owe you."

Dooku's face burned, and his cock stirred at Sören's words. He had been trying to not think too much about that possibility, but now that it was brought up...

 _We can take awhile getting there, if it's even going to..._ Dooku felt foolish even entertaining the idea. _He's half my age. Do men my age even...?_ His cock clearly still worked, but...

Sören bit off a piece of popsicle in his mouth, and slid it back in, his eyes fixed on Dooku's.

"I'm comfortable paying," Dooku said.

"All right." Sören nodded. He gave the popsicle a few more licks, and sucked on it again for a moment before asking, "Do you like Italian?"

"I like everything."

"Then Italian it is." Sören cocked his head. There was just a little bit of popsicle left now, and Sören sucked the rest of it thoughtfully, as Dooku's face burned and he resisted every urge he had to offer Sören something else to suck on. "Frankie may want to tag along, and she may want to invite her girlfriend, though I wouldn't ask you to pay for them."

"So you clearly aren't involved with her."

"No, sir. Gay man and a lesbian. Frankie's aunt owns the coffee shop downstairs, Frankie's aunt is another lesbian, but she's more femme than Frankie. She asks me to do her hair and I have to tell her 'I'm not that kind of gay boy, sorry.'"

Dooku raised an eyebrow. "What does your roommate know about me? She seems to assume..."

"Já, I told you that day I had you drop me off at the corner, she was gonna assume things. And you know, I don't know where this is going, so I haven't... told her... that we aren't, yet? She was giving you the evil eye out there because my last boyfriend was a real piece of shit, very verbally and physically abusive. The last time he was here, he made the mistake of hitting me, not knowing Frankie was home. She came up behind him and knocked him on his arse with one of those folding chairs we have in the kitchen, and then dragged him downstairs, threw him onto the sidewalk, kicked him in the balls with her steel-toed boots, and said if he ever showed his face here she'd shank him the next time, maybe cut his cock off. He didn't call the cops on her, he stayed away after that."

Dooku felt a surge of rage at what Sören had experienced - how dare someone abuse him - and a little bit of admiration and appreciation for the rough girl Sören lived with.

"So já," Sören said, "Frankie is a little protective of me because she's seen me go through some shit. And you don't fuck with punk chicks if you know what's good for you."

"How long ago was that?" Dooku asked.

"About a year ago. I haven't had any boyfriends since then, just a few hookups from Grindr."

"What?"

"Uh." Sören ran a hand through his mop of curls, looking nervous. "Never mind."

"Is that one of those social networking -"

"Yes." Sören seemed very uncomfortable with the subject.

"Does she think... we met..."

"I don't know what she thinks, she probably assumes you're a Grindr daddy dom I've seen more than once? I don't know? I didn't get into the full story of how we met." Sören lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "It's bad enough she sees the Jag out there, I don't want her knowing my rent is paid for the next three months because of you buying my paintings. Frankie's a good girl, a good friend, she just... sometimes asks me for money. Because neither of us have it. But she has less of it than I do, because." Sören made a smoking gesture.

"Cigarettes?"

"Pot." Sören laughed nervously. "I toke up sometimes too. It helps me relax. I feel more creative when I'm stoned."

"I see." Dooku cleared his throat. "I've never tried it."

Sören grinned that naughty grin; Dooku didn't have to be Force sensitive to know that smile meant Sören was going to get him to try it sooner or later.

When Dooku had finished his tea, he accompanied Sören to the kitchen, where Sören rinsed the mug and put it in the sink. Dooku opened the door, and just before Sören could step through, Frankie was in the kitchen.

"Hey, um," Frankie said, "can I get twenty quid to order a pizza? I've got my period and don't feel like cooking..."

It took Dooku a moment to realize Frankie was asking _him_ and not Sören, and was a little taken aback that the girl was sharing such private information with a near-stranger. Sören glared at her. "Frankie, it's rude to ask him for money," Sören said.

Dooku quietly took out his wallet and walked over to Frankie and put something in her hand. "Sören told me what you did, a year ago. With his... ex."

"Oh." Frankie smirked. "Yeah, he had it comin'. Fucker used to have Sören bruised up and in tears. I was finally here to pay me respects."

"Look at what I gave you," Dooku said, "and consider that my gratitude for what you have done. And please, in future, do not ask me for money again, and do not ask Sören for money because he is spending time with me and you assume things. He has a difficult time making ends meet, and whatever may or may not be going on between us, I am not paying for his companionship or otherwise financially supporting him."

Frankie's jaw dropped - now it was her turn to be taken aback by forthrightness - but she just nodded.

Then Dooku took Sören's arm, and practically shoved him out of the flat.

As they walked down the stairs, Sören hissed, "How much did you give her?"

"One hundred pounds."

"...shit... I'd ask how you can even afford that..."

"Don't worry about it. If she asks you for money again _do_ tell me, and please give me her cell number so I can have a few words with her."

_

They took the Tube from North Greenwich into Southwark, to a family-owned Italian restaurant that had gotten good reviews across most review sites on Google. Dooku was a little nervous when they took the Tube, even though there were fewer people on it, on a Sunday evening; most of his anxiety was the crowds, rather than feeling any sense of danger. There was also some anxiety with the fast movement, underground. Sören sensed Dooku's anxiety and took his hand during the first trip, and even when he'd calmed down, they still held hands. Dooku worried about possibly triggering a homophobic response, but a mother with small children seated across from them just smiled.

Dooku's legs stopped shaking once they began walking to the restaurant, and when they arrived, they were seated quickly; Dooku right away ordered a bottle of wine, which was delivered along with a pitcher of ice water. This time Sören drank his wine more slowly. "I've never been much of a wine drinker," Sören said, "but the taste is growing on me."

"What do you drink, usually?"

"Beer, lager... vodka." Sören grinned. "Brennivín."

"Is that like akvavit?"

"It's worse."

Dooku ordered aubergines and Sören ordered potatoes gnocchi. They shared a loaf of warm, fresh bread, and each had a salad as they waited for the main course. Frank Sinatra played in the background, and Dooku was amused by Sören singing along - Sören had a good voice, a rich tenor, though his accent was still painfully obvious when he sang, and very out of place with Sinatra. And then Dooku was even more amused when Sören sang along to "That's Amore" by Dean Martin.

"It's too bad they don't have karaoke," Sören said after the song. "I am the karaoke king, especially if I've had a few."

"On dear." Dooku laughed.

Dooku enjoyed watching Sören eat even more than he enjoyed his own food - Sören ate with gusto and passion, and Dooku was intoxicated by it. It made him feel more alive. The food was indeed delicious, though Dooku thought he could make better at home; nonetheless, he tipped generously for the good food and good service.

Dooku hadn't had a lot of wine because he needed to drive home to Bermondsey later, but Sören had a few glasses, and continued to sing Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin songs on the way back to the Tube station. Once they were on the train, Sören quieted down - it was apparently an unspoken rule that you didn't make noise on the Tube - and Dooku was relaxed enough from the wine and Sören's company that he didn't feel anxiety this time. There were more passengers this time, however, which meant more Force noise... and a woman with children needed a seat, which meant Sören or Dooku had to give theirs up. Sören got up - he didn't want anyone to hassle him about making an old man get up - but the seats in their row were all full now, and Sören would have to go a long ways to find an empty seat. Dooku's response was to pull Sören onto his lap, which made them both laugh.

Dooku stopped laughing when he felt himself get hard, in response to feeling Sören on his lap. He expected Sören to run away, but instead Sören leaned back against him and tilted his face to nuzzle Dooku's beard. Dooku wrapped his arms around the younger man and they stayed like that until their stop.

There was no physical contact on the way back, and finally Dooku was at the bottom of the stairs to Sören's flat.

"Do you want to come up and have a nightcap?" Sören asked.

Dooku had a feeling Sören was offering him sex, and despite his response on the Tube he wasn't ready for that. He had a lot to think about, and the time to think about it was not when he was feeling a little buzz and full of flutters. "Not tonight," Dooku said. "I have to work tomorrow."

"All right." Sören nodded. "When am I coming to hang the paintings?"

"Thursday night? 7 PM?"

"Sounds good."

"I'll pick you up," Dooku said. "It's not because I think you'll get mugged on the Tube, it's because I'm old-fashioned."

"All right."

They lingered, until it got awkward with smiling and nodding, not touching. Then Sören quickly took Dooku's hands in his, brought them to his lips to kiss them, and then he attempted to run up the stairs, tripped because he was slightly drunk, and Dooku paused on the first step, watching Sören stand up and lurch to the third-from-the-top step. "Do you need help getting up there?"

"I don't need any more help getting it up, thanks." Sören then smacked himself in the face. "Er. Good night, Nico."

Dooku laughed softly. "Good night, dear Sören. Sleep well, when you do."

"Já, I'm gonna need a cold shower first."

Dooku didn't understand why Sören said that, but when he got in his car, feeling somewhat giddy, the thought of Sören in the shower just made him feel even more flushed and fluttery and stupid. His cock ached for attention, and that night when he lay in bed trying to sleep, for the first time in years, Dooku brought himself to climax, thinking about Sören sucking him the way Sören had worked on the popsicle that afternoon, moaning Sören's name with his release.


	6. Chapter 6

Dooku was early to pick up Sören. He preferred to be early for appointments than late, but in this case he was a good twenty minutes ahead of time, and felt a little sheepish of it as he pulled over in front of the coffee shop, his heart racing, stomach fluttering. He didn't mind waiting twenty minutes - he wouldn't have expected Sören to be early just because he was - and the flutters intensified when he saw Sören coming down the staircase from his flat.

Carrying a long-stemmed, single white rose.

Sören got in the passenger seat, grinning. Dooku noticed his outfit - neither formal nor as casual as his usual attire; black trousers and a button-down long-sleeved black shirt. His nails were still painted their usual black. Sören had some of his curls pulled back, with the rest hanging loose, and Dooku rather liked the way that looked.

Sören was wearing cologne. It wasn't overpowering, and it wasn't the typical sort of cologne men wore - it smelled like a floral spice, cherry blossom and anise if Dooku had to place the notes.

Dooku's face burned, and it took him a moment to gather his words. Then the wrong ones came out. "You're early."

"I'm Sören."

Dooku scowled at the joke, and then his face softened, charmed by that smile and Sören's laughter. " _You're_ early," Sören said.

"Yes. But I didn't expect you to also be this early, I didn't want you to rush yourself. I was fine waiting."

"I can go back upstairs if you'd rather -"

" _No._ " The word came out forcefully, and Dooku felt even more self-conscious. He cleared his throat, looked down, and then met Sören's eyes, as the heat in his cheeks spread to his ears, which were hammering. "Let's start over again. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Nico." Sören himself looked down, then up, and their gaze held. Sören reached out and patted Dooku's free hand.

"I hope you've got an appetite. I've had the slow cooker on since this morning and it will be ready when we arrive."

"I do," Sören said. He brandished the rose at Dooku. "Shall I hold onto this until we get there?"

"Please do, so I can keep both hands free for driving." Dooku gave a small smile as he turned on the ignition. "Nobody has ever given me flowers."

"Really."

Dooku nodded, and watched as he began to maneuver the car into the street.

"Well, you'd brought me flowers over the weekend so I felt I should, ah, return the favor." Sören's smile became a brief frown. "They're a bit pricey, and I wanted to be careful with my money so I only got one -"

"One is enough." Dooku admired the large white rose. "It's the thought that counts. As I said before, this is the first time..." His voice trailed off as he moved into the street.

"I guess there's a first time for everything." Sören's smile returned. "I expect I'll be giving you a lot of first times."

Dooku's foot slammed the brake at the light changing color. The car lurched before it came to a stop, and Dooku sat back in his seat, feeling even more flustered, as well as embarrassed that he'd been less cautious at the light. "I don't usually drive like that -"

"-I know." Sören patted his knee, this time. The feel of Sören's hand on his knee was like being shocked with a live wire; mercifully, Sören took it off and went back to his own personal space.

They drove in awkward yet companionable silence until they got to Dooku's house in Bermondsey. It was a small house, one story, ringed by shrubbery, with a small, fenced-in yard in back. Sören paused for a moment, studying it, taking it all in, before Dooku led the way inside.

Sören's eyes widened as they stepped inside the small foyer. "Nice place," he said.

"We're not even in yet."

The foyer led to a hall. On the left side was the kitchen, which led to a small dining area. On the right side was a living room and a room Dooku used as a library-cum-office. Further down the hall, there was the window seat on one side, a bathroom not directly across, and then, finally, at the back of the house, Dooku's bedroom and a spare room. Near the spare room was the back door, leading out to the yard.

Dooku took the rose from Sören and marched to a cabinet where he kept glassware, grabbed a vase, added water, and set the rose down on the table. Sören followed Dooku into the kitchen. "Whatever you're cooking, it smells delicious," Sören said.

There was lamb going in the slow cooker, with potatoes and onions, bathed in red wine, creole seasoning, garlic, and rosemary. The smell permeated the entire kitchen, enough that it had gotten the attention of...

"Mrowr."

Sören _squeaked_ \- a reaction Dooku found strangely delightful - and Dooku couldn't help but smile as Sören stooped down to pet Dragos, who was rubbing against his legs, giving a loud, deep purr.

"Kitty!" Sören began to talk in a singsong voice. "Oh yes, who's a pretty kitty, yes you are, you're a pretty baby boy, such a fluffy baby, pretty boy..." Sören looked up at Dooku and said, "It is a he, yes?"

"Yes, though he's been neutered." Dooku walked to the slow cooker and took dishes down from the cabinet, getting ready to serve the meal.

"Does he have a name?"

"Of course he has a name. What kind of person doesn't name his cat?"

Sören laughed at this, though Dooku felt self-conscious again, like he'd put his foot in it with the response. "His name is Dragos," Dooku said.

"Dragos."

Dooku loved the way that sounded in Sören's Icelandic accent. "Yes. It's a Romanian name."

"Ah, you're Romanian?"

Dooku nodded. "Descended from a count, actually."

Sören was standing at the counter now, watching Dooku transfer food from the slow cooker onto plates. "Which one? Dracula?"

Dooku turned his face to Sören and glared, and then stopped glaring once Sören's face lit up with that smile and Sören laughed, his eyes twinkling.

"I'm sorry," Sören said.

"No you're not, you brat."

Sören stuck his tongue out at Dooku. "I had to, as someone who's gotten all of the 'Do you know Björk? Have you seen a polar bear? Are you descended from famous Vikings?' questions. As you know."

"Yes." Dooku chuckled. Then he said, "You can sit down and I'll wait on you."

"You're not a maid," Sören said.

"No, but you are a guest, and you spend all day waiting on others. Please sit down."

"Yes, sir."

For some reason hearing Sören say "yes, sir" had an effect on him - Dooku felt another giddy rush, and a little tingle in his loins. Dooku's face burned, and he steadied his now-trembling hands, telling himself to get a grip. _You are almost seventy and he is young enough to be your son._

Dooku set Sören's plate before him and poured him a glass of red wine. A moment later, Dooku joined him, and as he sat down he used the Force to light candles at the table.

Sören smiled. "A nice touch."

Dooku looked down. "I don't have guests often. I wanted this to be special."

"It already is. I can't remember the last time someone cooked a real meal for me. I mean, Frankie and I have cooked for each other but it's like, mac and cheese."

Dooku couldn't remember the last time he'd had that, or even if. He began to cut his lamb, which was nice and tender from a day in the slow cooker. "I hope you enjoy."

Sören ate with gusto, and complimented the food every few bites. By the end of it, Dooku felt like he'd received praise that should be reserved for a world-class chef. "It was really no effort," Dooku said. "I threw everything in the slow cooker before I left for work."

"You seasoned it yourself, yes?"

"Yes, but I followed a recipe."

"I know people who could follow a recipe and it would still taste wrong, or be burned, or something else." Sören patted his belly. He'd cleaned his plate.

Dooku got up to take the plate and Sören put his hand on Dooku's arm, stopping him. "You cooked, I'd like to take care of the dishes," Sören said.

"As I told you, you are a guest. Your job is waiting on people -"

"I'd like to repay you for giving me the best meal I've had in a long time. Please."

Dooku wasn't going to argue. He polished off a glass of wine as he watched Sören take the dishes to the sink. Sören worked on the slow cooker first, and then the dishes and silverware, and loaded everything in the dishwasher when it was ready. Then he looked at Dooku, and there was a pause before Dooku gestured for Sören to follow him.

The paintings Dooku had bought from Sören were leaned up against the coffee table in the living room. "It's weird seeing those again," Sören said.

"If you go on a walkthrough of my home, perhaps walking it over a few times, I imagine you'd be able to get an eye for perspective and what painting would look best in which room, and where it would look best."

This time Dooku was the one to walk behind Sören, who walked slowly, looking around, considering. Sören admired the office-library, and the window seat in the hall. He even admired the bathroom. Sören stopped outside Dooku's bedroom, a bit hesitant.

"Yes, my home means that room, also," Dooku said.

Dooku had a king size bed, even though he was just one person sleeping in it. His bedroom was done in dark blues, browns, and black. The furniture was all dark wood, including a shelf above the bed that kept a collection of seashells from beaches Dooku had visited.

"I like the shells," Sören said.

"Most of them are from Britain," Dooku said. "Some are from the Black Sea, when I've visited Romania."

"Ah, your ancestral homeland."

Dooku nodded. "My last visit there was quite some time ago."

A moment of silence, and then Sören said, "I think the painting of the seashell holding the universe would go best by your shelf - a little above it, in the center."

Dooku walked out of the bedroom, and came back a few minutes later, carrying the painting.

"If you want me to hang it while I'm here," Sören said, "you can either move the bed and bring me a ladder, or it would be easier for me to stand on the bed -"

Dooku cringed, but then nodded. "That would be easier."

"I'll take my shoes off, at least." Sören removed his Doc Martens, revealing a pair of purple socks with rainbow-colored owls on them. Dooku did a double-take - he'd never seen socks like those, especially not on the feet of a grown man - and then he decided that those were the kind of socks Sören _would_ wear.

Dooku fetched a tape measure, hammer and nails. Sören climbed on the bed, took a few measurements, and Dooku winced at the sound of the hammer. All pain was forgotten when the painting was hung, and Sören climbed off the bed and stood beside Dooku at the foot of the bed, then they walked backward a couple of meters, closer to the door, to get a better look.

"That looks like it belongs there," Dooku said. "Like I'd had it custom made for that shelf."

"Good." Sören reached out to squeeze Dooku's hand, and then let go.

Sören and Dooku walked out of the bedroom, and Sören walked to the door of the room across the hall, where the door was shut. "What about this one?"

Dooku shook his head, and gestured for Sören to follow back up the hall.

"Is it a closet?" Sören couldn't resist teasing. "D'you have a body in there?"

Dooku glared, and Sören stuck out his tongue, and then Dooku rolled his eyes, not able to help chuckling a little.

"Brat," Dooku said.

The painting of the sea turtle was hung in the library-study, across from Dooku's desk. The painting of the figure on the mountain watching the other figure fly in sunset clouds was hung in the living room. The painting of the forest waterfall with flittering forest spirits was hung in the dining area - it went well with the rich wood of the furniture, and the muted greens of the tablecloth and the earth-toned tea service Dooku used. The fifth painting, the one of the sea on fire beneath a phoenix-shaped aurora, was hung in the foyer near the door.

After the paintings were hung, Dooku retrieved another bottle of wine, feeling celebratory. Sören followed Dooku back down the hall, and Dooku led him out the back door, to a patio table he had in his small yard. There were a couple of fruit-bearing trees and rose hedges in the yard, that were barren with the end of fall. The night was crisp but not too cold; one of Dooku's neighbors had a wood stove, and the smell of woodsmoke was in the air.

"This is nice," Sören said.

"It is. You should see it in spring and summer, when the roses are blooming."

Sören smiled. "I bet it looks magical here in the wintertime, too."

"Most people would not want to sit in a yard drinking wine at night in the dead of winter."

"I'm not most people, and winter here is fairly mild compared to what I'm used to, besides."

Dooku nodded.

Sören sat back in his chair, and after a moment he said, "So, you said you wanted to commission me. I'm not going to say no, but you have a small house and you already have five paintings by me hanging up -"

"I do want to commission you," Dooku said, "and I did want you to come by because I couldn't explain what I want without you seeing it first."

Sören raised an eyebrow.

When they finished their wine, Dooku brought them back inside, and this time, he opened the door of the room across his. He walked in, and a couple of minutes later Sören followed, hesitant.

The room was bare - bare walls, wooden floor - except for blinds on the one window, looking out at the yard, and an exercise mat in the center of the floor.

"This is my meditation chamber," Dooku said.

Sören nodded. Dooku could tell Sören was starting to sense the Force energy that had been accumulating in the room over the years. "It's why I keep the door closed," Dooku said.

"So you want me to make a painting to hang in here." Sören cocked his head to one side. "Were you thinking a mandala, or -?"

Dooku shook his head. "I'm not commissioning you for a painting."

Sören sighed. "You changed your mind?"

"Oh, no. I'm still commissioning you, but it's not to paint a single picture on a canvas." Dooku took a deep breath. "I want you to paint the room."

Dooku walked to the light switch and turned it on. The walls were off-white, bare of any wallpaper, and the paint needed touching up.

Sören gave Dooku a look like he had lost his mind. "I'm not... a house painter..."

"That's not what I'm asking," Dooku said. "Yes, a can of fresh paint on the walls would be the first step. But what I'm asking is for you to... paint something... on the walls."

"Like a mural?"

"Rather like that, yes," Dooku said.

"Ahhhh, I see." Sören stroked his chin. "I've never done anything that large before, and it would probably take awhile."

"Certainly. I'm not expecting it to be done overnight, or even within a few days. I imagine it would take at least a few weeks to a month to finish, if not longer."

"Especially because I have a job," Sören said. "It's not the most glamorous in the world, but it's a steady source of income. I'd have concerns, if I had to quit there to work here, that once this job was finished, it would be awhile before I could find work elsewhere."

"I'm sure we can make an arrangement that allows you to work around your current job schedule."

"All right. We'll also need to discuss payment."

"Of course."

There was a chirp outside the meditation chamber door, and Dooku and Sören turned to see Dragos sitting outside the door. Dooku quickly made his way back to the hall, scooping Dragos up off the floor.

"Please turn off the light and close the door behind you," Dooku told Sören.

"I take it you don't want him going in there."

"Dragos is an old cat and rather sedentary, but on the occasions he's been exposed to the Force energies in that room he gets a bit rambunctious, and I prefer he stay out of mischief."

Sören chuckled, and laughed harder as Dooku began scolding the cat in baby talk. Sören followed Dooku down the hall to the living room, where Dooku put Dragos on his lap and pet him; Dragos kneaded and purred loudly.

"I love cats," Sören said. "I wish I had a cat, but I have trouble feeding myself, never mind another living thing."

"Feel free to spoil Dragos when you're here," Dooku said. "I can tell he likes you."

As if on cue, Dragos hopped off Dooku's lap and climbed onto Sören's. Sören began stroking the cat, paying special attention to behind the ears and under the chin. Soon, Dragos flopped onto his side, and the purring got even louder as Sören rubbed the cat's belly.

"A lot of cats don't like belly rubs," Sören said. "He's very trusting." With his free hand, Sören placed a finger on Dragos's outstretched paw, and smiled as Dragos curled his paw around it, squeezing as his other paws curled, making little kicks like he was swimming. Sören continued to rub Dragos's belly, and the smile on his face made Dooku feel that fluttery rush again.

Dooku cleared his throat. He looked at the time. "Are you in any rush to get home?"

"Not particularly. I work tomorrow but not till lunch hour."

"I usually keep late hours myself."

A few minutes of silence passed - like Dooku had issued an invitation of sorts, though Dooku wasn't sure what he himself was offering, and finally, feeling flustered and a bit self-conscious, Dooku stammered, "Would you like tea?"

"Tea sounds lovely," Sören said.

Just before Dooku could get up, the doorbell rang.

"What the -" Dooku raised his eyebrows. He rarely entertained guests, and even then only on a schedule - having someone just randomly drop by outside of an emergency was more or less unheard of. It startled him, and Dooku thought about ignoring it, but then the doorbell rang again, followed by a knock.

Dooku got up, made his way to the foyer, and opened the door. A familiar sight greeted him - a man ten years his junior and the same imposing height, with long silvering brown hair, some of it tied back, bright blue eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and a warm smile. Next to him was a younger man, around Sören's age or possibly a little older, nape-length auburn hair, bearded.

"Qui. Obi. This is... unexpected."

Joaquin Gonzalez - or "Qui-Gon" as he had been nicknamed as a schoolboy, and the name stuck - bowed his head and then lifted it, meeting Dooku's eyes. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I would normally call first, but Obi and I happened to be in the neighborhood on our way back from a concert, and I haven't seen you in so long... I had to say hello."

"I was just about to put on tea," Dooku said. "Do come in."

Qui's eyes widened with surprise as he stepped into the living room and saw Sören sitting in a chair with Dragos on his lap. Sören's expression remained neutral, but Dooku could sense in the Force there was a bit of tension there - Sören was picking up on closeness between Dooku and Qui and didn't like it... _he's jealous?_

Dooku's own reaction surprised him even more - he felt like preening.

But he also didn't want Sören to get the wrong idea - the truth was there was not and never had been any sort of intimacy with Qui; Dooku felt the same way about Qui-Gon that he did about Leja, even though Qui was a bit older than Leja. And in any case...

"Sören, this is Doctor Joaquin Gonzalez."

Qui gave a small wave, and then Obi stepped into the room and took Qui's hand.

"And his husband, Oberon Canobie."

Dooku could sense the relief, though there was still a lingering touch of suspicion. Nonetheless, Sören smiled that shy yet radiant smile that took his breath away.

"Qui, Obi, this is Sören Sigurdsson."

"It's a pleasure." The two men walked towards Sören, shook his hand, and then sat down together on a couch.

Dooku looked at Sören and said, "When Qui was in law school, I was his mentor."

"I decided not to become a barrister," Qui explained, "and became a veterinarian."

"You would have been a fine barrister," Dooku said.

Qui rolled his eyes. "I've never heard the end of it."

"It is a compliment," Dooku said. "Nonetheless, you have done well for yourself in your chosen field."

"I'd say." Qui put his arm around Obi, who smiled at him adoringly, and Qui smiled back. Then he turned to Sören and explained, "It's how I met my husband. He started off as one of my clients."

"I love my cats," Obi said.

"I'm envious," Sören said. "I wish I had a cat of my own. How many cats do you have?"

"Well," Obi said, "when I started bringing them to the clinic, I just had two. Now we have... five."

"You got another one since the last time I've seen you," Dooku remarked.

"Yes, and you should come by one of these days and meet her," Qui said. He looked at Sören, and then back at Dooku. "You can bring your..."

"Tea," Dooku said, and clipped off to the kitchen.

As Dooku began making tea, he heard Qui's voice in his head, through their Force bond.

_If I'd known I was going to be interrupting, I would have called to arrange a visit._

_It's fine,_ Dooku replied, a bit curt.

A pause. _I hadn't expected you would have... company._

Dooku said nothing, and then realized his silence said as much as any words he might have replied with, if not more.

Qui wisely dropped it, and when the tea was ready, Dooku came back in the living room with the tea service. Dooku used the Force to pass the cup to Sören, whose eyebrows raised with alarm.

"They..."

"They know," Dooku said.

Qui demonstrated his own command of the Force by using the Force to take the lid off the sugar bowl and drop two cubes in his tea. Then Obi waved his hand and the lid went back on the bowl.

"Force sensitives have a way of finding each other," Qui said, looking at Sören, then at Dooku.

Dooku could feel the weight behind the word _finding_ and his face burned. Qui raised his cup as if to toast, before sipping.

Dooku sat down across from Sören, staring into his teacup, feeling awkward.

"Sören tells me you met at an art exhibit?" Qui said. "Leja's gallery, I take it?"

"Yes. You... know about the gallery, then."

"I know about a lot of things. I see Leja fairly frequently."

Dooku almost choked on his tea, realizing through his Force bond with Qui, what those words implied. Leja had not brought it up herself, perhaps because the distance with Qui had been a difficult subject - a distance that might start to be remedied, now. They were consenting adults, and if they were happy, that was what mattered. But it was still a bit of a shock.

Dooku recovered, and said, "Sören was one of the artists featured at the opening. I bought five of his paintings." Dooku pointed at the one hanging in the living room.

"That is beautiful." Qui got up and walked to the painting, to take a closer look. "It's almost as if it's... alive." Qui reached out, his hand stopping just short of touching the painting. "I can feel the Living Force radiating from the picture." Qui looked over his shoulder and gave Dooku a little smile. "He's very talented."

Qui walked back to his seat next to Obi. "I just paint as a hobby, but it's nothing as good as that."

"Oh, you shouldn't dismiss yourself," Sören said. "Art is very subjective. What one person thinks is not so good, another may think is the most beautiful thing they've ever seen. And raw talent is always something that can be trained, if one has the patience for it."

"I keep telling Qui he should take an art class," Obi said. "If nothing else, it would be fun -"

Sören's eyes lit up, and Dooku could feel the gears grinding in the Icelander's head. "I always wanted to teach art classes," Sören said. "Just like it had been a dream of Leja's to open a gallery and give exposure to artists, it's my dream to eventually own an art studio. Have classes... help people get in touch with their creative side. It's a lie that only artists make art, only writers write, only poets make poetry. Everyone can be creative, it doesn't need to be a full-time calling. It only is for some, and it's not a life I recommend." Sören gave a rueful smile before he drank his tea. Meanwhile, Sören's dream delighted Dooku, making him admire the young man even more.

"I like him," Qui said.

"He's very likable." Dooku instantly felt ridiculous saying that, and his cheeks flushed.

Qui and Obi looked at each other, finished their tea, and then Qui made an exaggerated yawn. "Well," Qui said, "I believe it shall be past my bedtime when we arrive home -"

Obi stood up, and offered his hand to help Qui up, even though Qui didn't need it.

Dooku walked them to the door. "You have my cell number still, yes?"

Qui nodded. "I do."

Dooku gave him a stern look. "Next time, please utilize it before you decide to make another surprise visit."

Qui chuckled, and so did Obi, and then Qui slapped Dooku on the shoulder. "I'm happy for you."

"I didn't -"

Qui rolled his eyes. "Have a good evening. I will call you over the weekend, perhaps you can bring Sören for dinner sometime next week?"

"I'd like that." Dooku smiled. "It was nice seeing you again, even unexpectedly."

Qui hesitated, and then he grabbed Dooku and gave him a tight hug. Dooku hugged him back, a lump in his throat, unshed tears stinging his eyes.

When they pulled apart, Qui said, "Don't be such a stranger."

Qui walked out then, and Obi waved before he followed.

Dooku closed the door behind them, and came back in the living room to find Sören fiddling around on his cell phone.

"Frankie texted," Sören said, "and wants to know if I'm coming home tonight. Because the shower faucet broke and I know how to fix it and she doesn't know how."

Dooku said nothing.

"I told her I'll be there in awhile."

Dooku nodded. He felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. "I kept my wine intake moderate so I'd be able to drive you home when you were ready."

Sören nodded. "I'll hit the bathroom and then you can bring me back."

Sören stopped to say goodbye to Dragos, petting and fussing over him, and then they walked out to Dooku's Jaguar. The first few minutes of the ride back were spent in an awkward yet companionable silence, and finally Sören said, "I enjoyed this evening."

"I did as well," Dooku said. "I enjoy your company."

"I enjoy your company too." Sören smiled.

Dooku took a deep breath. "I'm sorry we were interrupted."

Sören looked down. "It's all right."

"Sören... not to be rude, but I sensed you were a bit uncomfortable, and you should know... Qui has only ever been a friend. Though he and I are not that far apart in age, he has been like a younger brother or a son to me."

Sören looked out the window, and then he nodded. "Uh... thank you, for that."

Dooku nodded back. "I don't have a history with him in that way... or with anyone. I've been a bachelor all my life."

"So it's not just that you've been chaste your whole life, you've never even had a relationship."

"No." Dooku sighed. "When you get used to being alone, and doing things a certain way, alone, it makes it more difficult to try and get out there. I'm... shy. And socially awkward."

"Hi Shy And Socially Awkward. I'm Sören."

Dooku glared, and Sören attempted to wink - Sören couldn't wink, and it was more of a clumsy blink. Sören laughed at his failed attempt, and Dooku felt in the Force that Sören was demonstrating his own awkwardness to make Dooku feel more at ease, and allowed himself to laugh as well.

"I understand social anxiety," Sören said. "I don't exactly have a lot of friends out here, or back home."

"You at least have Frankie."

"Já. There's that. But as you know, she and I aren't exactly each other's type."

Dooku didn't know what to say to that, and they were almost there anyway. When they pulled into the parking stall, they lingered for a moment, eyes locked, before Sören looked away and quietly opened his car door.

They stood on the curb, not far from the stairwell leading up to Sören's flat. "So, thank you, again," Sören said.

"It was my pleasure." Dooku smiled. Then he said, "Qui... invited us to dinner at his place next week. He lives in Southwark."

"Oh." Sören nodded. "I could come with you, já."

"We haven't set the day yet. He says he'll call me this weekend and we can make arrangements then." Dooku cocked his head to one side. "If you'd like, I can pick you up on Sunday so you can begin working on the room."

Sören nodded. "We'll need to take a trip to the hardware store so we can pick out a can of paint and I can paint the walls. Once there's a base coat, then I can work on the art itself."

"Sounds fair."

"Do you own or rent?"

"Own... why?"

"If you were renting I would have more limited possibilities with what I can do. I was thinking black base coat, though it certainly won't be all black in the finished product."

"Black... paint?"

Sören could tell Dooku found that outlandish. "Yes, there are cans of black paint available, usually, some people like to paint their rooms black. I had a black bedroom in a place I lived before I came to the UK."

"That somehow does not surprise me."

Sören snorted.

A moment passed, and Dooku said, "What time on Sunday?"

"One o'clock?"

Dooku nodded. "One it is."

"And we can also discuss the logistics of time and money for this work, on Sunday."

"And I'll cook for you again."

"Good. I'm looking forward to it."

Dooku smiled, and Sören smiled back, and Dooku stepped forward. Sören also took a step forward and reached, looking like he was about to take Dooku's hands in his. Just before he could, they heard the sound of a window opening and Frankie's voice bellowing down to the curb. "OI, SÖREN! YOU GONNA GET YOUR ARSE UP HERE AND FIX THIS BLOODY FAUCET SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHOWER TONIGHT, OR ARE YOU GONNA SNOG YOUR OLD MAN ALL NIGHT?"

Dooku heard himself take a sharp intake of breath as Sören facepalmed. Sören looked up at Frankie in the window and yelled, "THANKS, FRANKIE!"

Frankie blew Sören a kiss, and Sören gave her the finger. Frankie's response was to turn around and moon them. Dooku made a noise as he looked away. Sören's laughter rang out into the night.

"Well," Sören said, "I better get upstairs before she yells some more and one of our neighbors decides to call the police for noise."

Dooku nodded.

"I'll see you Sunday, Nico."

Sören took another step forward, and then Dooku felt in the Force that shyness got the better of him and Sören quickly turned around and went up the stairs. Dooku stood there for a moment even after the door to Sören's flat had been closed, and then got in his car, feeling pensive.

He arrived back home, cleaned his tea service, then showered, alone, and went to bed, alone. He lay awake for awhile, petting Dragos next to him, feeling like for all of his accomplishments and success, he had nothing to show for his life. Sören helped him feel alive again... and some of that return of feeling life was being able to feel pain, again. Feeling how alone he'd been, all these years, because he'd been hurt when he was young, and was afraid to let others in. He was afraid, even now, of wherever this was going with Sören. Afraid of the way the younger man made him feel.

Afraid that he'd say or do something to drive Sören away. Everything was a bit of a dance... and it was clear neither of them really knew how to do this dance. One false step could throw everything off. There was already so much work in finding the rhythm, learning the push and pull of the moves. Was it worth it?

Dooku thought of that smile, the laugh that seemed to light up the whole world. The idea of that being missing from his life _hurt_.

Dragos started to meow. Dooku sat up groggily and saw Dragos sitting on the small cat tree near the bedroom window, looking outside.

"What is it?" Dooku asked.

Dragos looked at Dooku, and then out the window again, giving another sad meow.

"Oh, you're wondering where your new friend went off to."

Dragos hopped off the cat tree and slurked off, sadly and slowly. Dooku sighed. _I miss him already, too._

That was all the answer he needed.


	7. Chapter 7

Dooku felt out of place in the hardware store, but Sören's presence put him at ease. Sören was pulling him by the elbow down the paint aisle, debating whether or not to use black or a dark shade of purple or blue for the base coat of the meditation room.

Dooku had never known so many shades of paint existed, and Sören being the artist that he was, had spent at least an hour looking at the color tabs, comparing side by side.

Dooku had asked, "Do the walls have to be dark?"

"For the idea I had in mind, yes. Unless you absolutely insist I use a light background, in which case I'd have to scrap my idea altogether and think of something else."

The look on Sören's face as he said that made Dooku hesitant to disappoint him by asking for a more traditional color for the walls... but also, Dooku could feel the creative energy sparking in and around Sören and it was _intoxicating_. It made him feel alive. The Living Force sang through Sören's paintings and Dooku had no doubt that whatever was dancing in Sören's mind's eye, would be perfect for the meditation room. So here he was with Sören, in a hardware store, watching Sören crinkle his nose, squint his eyes, and sometimes poke out his tongue as he internally debated the merits of After Midnight versus Black Raspberry.

At last, Sören narrowed it down to three color cards, and presented them to Dooku. "Pick one," he said.

Dooku went with a color that turned out to be named Black Knight. Sören smiled at the name. "Some people want a knight in shining armor," Sören mused aloud. "I've always had a thing for a bit of darkness."

"If only you knew," Dooku found himself saying, before he could stop himself.

Sören's eyes widened, and Dooku cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious. But still he went on, "You'd be surprised. As a barrister, I've seen some injustices that have made me... rather angry."

Sören was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt - a plain steel blue T-shirt, over a pair of ratty torn and faded jeans - and Dooku watched the gooseflesh break out on Sören's arms. Through their developing Force bond, Dooku could feel a frisson of excitement go through Sören. Dooku's face burned.

"Right," Dooku said, his stomach doing flip-flops. "Let's pay for this and then you can get started with the base coat."

At the cash register Dooku was once again acutely aware of how out of place he looked in the hardware store - someplace he normally didn't visit himself; if he needed repairs he hired handymen. Dooku's six feet five inches towered over the clerk at the register, his figure made more imposing by a black cape over usual black tunic and trousers. Sören's T-shirt and weathered jeans couldn't be more of a contrast if he'd tried, and the clerk gave them a bemused look while ringing up the cans of paint, put on Dooku's charge.

On the ride back to Dooku's house, they discussed the plan. "I'll spend today putting on a base coat of paint on the walls," Sören said, "and then in two or three days I'll come over to put on the second coat of paint. When that's dry, I'll start working on the mural."

Dooku nodded.

"I'd like to work on it some every day," Sören said, "so I don't hit an artist's block. But that might be a bit difficult to do around our respective schedules, for example if I'm available and you're at work."

"Well," Dooku said, "I can have a copy made of the house key."

"That's a lot of trust."

"It is," Dooku said, "but I do."

"I'm honored." That smile again. "And yes, I would like to prove myself worthy of that trust."

A few moments of silence, and then Dooku said, "As far as today goes... after you finish putting on the base coat of paint, do you have plans?"

"No. Do you?"

"I'd like to make dinner for you, if you'd like to stay."

"I would."

When they arrived at Dooku's apartment, he put on tea, but Sören got right down to work, setting up what he needed in the meditation room. Sören had brought a bag with him of assorted brushes, measuring tape, and painter's tape. He'd also brought a portable Mp3 player and speakers. "I hope you don't mind if I listen to music while I work?" Sören asked. "I work better when I have music on."

"Not at all," Dooku said.

Sören's lips quirked. "All right, but consider yourself warned, I have a fairly eclectic taste in music."

Dooku wouldn't have guessed that from the goth T-shirts Sören was fond of wearing. Dooku drank tea and reviewed his latest case, and the connected paperwork, as Sören worked down the hall. Dooku was familiar with some of the music Sören played - he recognized Nine Inch Nails, and had expected it from seeing Sören in that shirt once. But in addition to rock there was a fair amount of hip-hop and R&B, a genre Dooku did not care for; he thought of rap music as noise, not music. And yet, he found himself amused rather than annoyed when he heard Sören singing along in that delightful accent of his, and he had a rich, husky tenor voice, as soulful as the artists he sang with.

Sören's playlist jumped around from genre to genre, artist to artist, though Dooku started to recognize when voices and style were similar and guessed Sören had a few favorites. Then there were several R&B tracks in a row where Dooku found he did enjoy it, perhaps because the singer sounded a lot like Michael Jackson, which Dooku had been a fan of during Jackson's career in the 70s and 80s; after Dooku brought his empty teapot and cup to the kitchen, he wandered down to the meditation room. Sören was halfway through the paint job, and had some paint spattered on his T-shirt and jeans as well as a little paint in his curls. He was stooped over the paint can, dipping his brush, and it took him a moment to notice Dooku was standing there.

"Pardon the interruption," Dooku said. He gestured to the mp3 player. "Is that... Michael Jackson?"

"No," Sören laughed. "He's dead."

"I knew that," Dooku said. "I didn't know if that was some of the music he'd released prior to his death."

Sören shook his head. "Not Michael Jackson, no - though I'm a big fan." Sören smiled. "It's The Weeknd."

Dooku went back to his study, and with a legal file in one tab of his laptop, he opened another tab to type "The Weekend" into Google. He was dismayed that songs didn't come up. He went back down the hall, and said, "Are you making fun of me?"

"No...?"

"I just did an Internet search and couldn't find this Weekend."

"Oh..." Sören scratched his beard, and then he raised an eyebrow and said, "How did you spell it?"

"What do you mean, how did I spell it? I went to Oxford, I can spell weekend."

Sören smirked. "That's why."

"What."

"W-e-e-k-n-d. The Weeknd, no third E."

"...What."

Sören couldn't contain his laughter.

Dooku glowered, and Sören laughed even harder.

"What kind of... _nonsense_..."

Sören's laughter was uproarious now; Dooku folded his arms, continuing to glower. "You're not making this up?"

"I'm not making it up. That is how the artist spells it. The W-e-e-k-n-d."

"THAT IS ATROCIOUS SPELLING. HOW IS HE EVEN ALLOWED TO SPELL HIS ARTIST PSEUDONYM LIKE THAT."

"I don't know, but he does." Sören chuckled. "Google that shit, man."

Dooku did, and pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning.

Nonetheless, he found himself disappointed that there wasn't more, and tried to resume concentration on his work. After awhile he made more tea, and when it was ready, he brought it back to his study, and then Sören turned up the music and Dooku heard the voice of this The Weeknd once more. And there was Sören singing along:

_Bring your love baby I could bring my shame_  
_Bring the drugs baby I could bring my pain_  
_I got my heart right here_  
_I got my scars right here_  
_Bring the cups baby I could bring the drink_  
_Bring your body baby I could bring you fame_  
_And that's my motherfucking words too_  
_So let me motherfucking love you_

The words, and the vulnerability in Sören's voice, was like a knife to the gut. Dooku didn't dare hope that it was directed at him, and yet... he knew. He could feel, suddenly, the longing.

Longing mirrored by his own.

Dooku's head swam, his hands shook. He didn't know what to do, how to respond. His first instinct was to run, to keep this at bay, afraid of getting too close, afraid of getting hurt. And yet there was that hunger, that ache - a hunger and ache he didn't even fully know he had.

Dooku stared at the blinking cursor on his screen, heart racing, feeling like he should go down the hall, but he was frozen in his chair...

The music was interrupted by more music. "The Memory of Trees" by Enya, his ringtone for Qui-Gon. It took him two rings to register that Qui had said he'd called today, to confirm a dinner invite for him and Sören later in the week. Dooku's trembling hands almost dropped the phone, but he flipped it open and accepted the call. "Hello," he said.

"Hello!"

"Qui. How are you?"

"I'm doing well. How are you?"

"I am all right." A nervous laugh. "You're calling about dinner plans, I assume?"

"Yes. Thursday night at 6?"

"I believe so. Let me ask Sören."

Dooku got up, and carried the phone down the hall. Another song had come on now, and Dooku gestured for Sören to lower the volume for a moment. "Are you free for dinner at Qui's on Thursday night at 6?"

"That's cutting it kind of close to when I get off work," Sören said, "but I can probably do it. I just won't be able to work on the room any that day and I have a long enough shift that day that I'll need to go home at a decent hour."

Dooku nodded. He headed back down the hall. "Thursday night at 6 works well, though we should probably leave no later than 8 or so."

"That's fine. Does Sören have any food allergies you're aware of? Is he on a special diet? Vegan?"

"As far as I can tell, no. I've had several meals with Sören now and he definitely seems to enjoy eating meat."

There was a moment of silence, and then Dooku could hear Qui-Gon chuckling. It took Dooku a moment to pick up the innuendo.

" _Joaquin._ "

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

More laughter. "You're right. I'm not. But this is also the first time I've gotten to make such a joke like that _about_ you instead of _around_ you."

Dooku sighed.

"I'm happy for you," Qui went on.

"We're -"

"You seem quite taken with him."

Dooku couldn't deny that. He said nothing.

"It's about time. A bit younger than I would have thought, but I can't judge you for age difference, considering Obi and all."

Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't truthfully confirm - there had never been any official declaration of a relationship, only "seeing where things go" - and he couldn't deny, either.

"It's complicated," Dooku said, finally.

"Is it ever not complicated, with anyone?"

Dooku sighed.

A moment of awkward silence passed and then Qui said, "Look. Don't fuck this up. And don't even say 'there is no this to fuck up', because you and I both know that's bullshit. I can imagine this is new and different and scary for you. But don't overthink this, and don't run from it. He's already made you happy, I can see that. I've never seen you look at anybody the way you look at him. Hold onto that. Let yourself live, for a change."

Dooku's jaw set, and then the words that he found coming out of his mouth were not the words he'd planned on saying, but they were the right ones all the same. "Ironic. Now you are the one lecturing and advising me, after all my years of lecturing and advising you."

"Indeed."

Both men chuckled, and then Dooku said, "We'll be there Thursday night at 6."

"You'd better be."

When the phone call ended, Dooku put his cell phone on his desk, leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and then covered his face with his hands. His hands were shaking, and he felt a surge of emotion that threatened to break him.

He also, all of a sudden, felt very, very old. Ancient. Tired.

Dooku had many moments over his sixty-eight years of feeling his age, even though he took care of himself and between that and the Force, he was in excellent physical condition rivaling that of someone years younger. Dooku had moments of feeling his mortality and wondering what he'd done with his life, even for all of his success and wealth as a barrister, as a public servant, championing justice and the greater good. His life had still been sterile, barren - keeping people at arm's length, even the few he loved, like Qui and Leja, who he thought of as his children. He didn't like letting his guard down. He didn't like things getting messy. And the vulnerability he'd heard in Sören's voice, singing, was a mirror of the vulnerability he felt on the inside. He was already in too deep, feeling things for this younger artist that he hadn't felt before. Sören made him feel alive again.

And just like a limb that had fallen asleep, burning and tingling with pins and needles, sometimes almost unbearable, Dooku felt that same stirring in his spirit. It was too much life, all at once... and it reminded him of how much he _hadn't_ lived the last few decades.

Wordlessly, by pure instinct, Dooku's feet took him down the hall, down to his bedroom. Once he was there, he closed the door behind him most of the way, but not completely shutting or locking it. Just enough for privacy.

He took off his shoes, then he took off his cape and neatly folded it onto a chair, and then he climbed onto his bed and lay down. He used the Force to bring over a stuffed bear he'd had since he was a child - one of the very few surviving relics of his childhood, and it was a wonder how the well-loved bear was even still in one piece - and he pulled the bear to his heart, and let himself weep, quietly, into his pillow.

Eventually exhaustion overcame him and he closed his eyes and let rest claim him, intending to only nap for an hour or so.

He woke to the sensation of having his feet rubbed. Nobody touched Dooku's feet - indeed, nobody touched Dooku in general - and the sensation was almost overwhelming in its pleasure... but also the intimacy of the act made him feel ready to cry again. He'd had an ache he didn't even realize he had, a hunger for touch that had been suppressed, and just laying there and allowing Sören to touch his feet was further evidence that he was in over his head with feelings. Attachment. Complication.

He opened his eyes to see Sören sitting at the foot of his bed, rubbing his feet, smiling at him with that shy, beautiful smile.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Sören said.

Dooku opened his mouth to speak, couldn't find words, and then he looked at the clock and gasped. " _Shit_ -"

"Jæja, it got late."

It was after eight PM; Dooku had been asleep for over four hours. Dooku had promised to cook for Sören and it was late to get that started when they both had work in the morning...

"I ordered a pizza," Sören went on. "It's on its way."

Dooku shook his head - he didn't eat pizza, but it wasn't that, he was hungry enough that he would eat it. "I was supposed to cook for you, and I don't want you paying for it. I'll pay."

"Are you sure?"

Dooku nodded. He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sören finally stopped rubbing his feet. Dooku used the Force to pull his wallet out of his pants pocket, and just in time, the doorbell rang. Shyly, hesitantly, Sören used the Force to pull the wallet from Dooku's hand, and quietly hopped off the bed and walked down the hall to answer the door. Dooku swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stretched - Dragos had decided to curl up next to him at some point while he was sleeping, and now Dragos was yawning and stretching with him in unison. Dragos gave Dooku a headbutt and waited for a few pettings before climbing onto the footstool Dooku kept near the bed for the elderly cat's convenience, and gingerly stepping down to the floor. Dragos followed Dooku down the hall, where Sören now had a box of pizza, a brown paper bag on top of the box, and a plastic bag containing a 2-liter of something.

Dooku took his wallet back, and, still disoriented from sleep, he stumbled towards the dining area intending to set the table, but Sören gestured to the living room.

"I don't usually eat there," Dooku said.

"I take it you also don't usually nap when company is over," Sören said, and then teased, "or let said company see you holding a teddy bear."

Dooku's face flushed.

"You looked adorable," Sören said, and leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the nose before using the Force to shove Dooku into the living room.

They sat on the couch together, eating pizza straight out of the box, watching the BBC. The brown bag contained breadsticks and a dipping sauce, and Sören had ordered a 2-liter of Coca-Cola, and the pizza restaurant had sent paper cups with it at Sören's request. The pizza was sausage and mushroom, and Dooku found himself enjoying it, even though it was strange to eat with his hands instead of utensils. The Coca-Cola was also strange to him - the fizz, the sweetness - but he drank nonetheless. Dragos hovered, begging, and eventually slurked away, sulking; they could hear the cat noisily crunching his dry food in the kitchen a few minutes later.

"I'll give him cat treats in awhile to make up for it," Dooku said.

Sören chuckled. "You should give him treats anyway. It was good of him to watch over you while you slept."

Dooku shook his head. "I can't believe I slept that long."

"You must have needed it, já?"

"I suppose I did."

Sören finished the piece of pizza he was working on, and then he said, "Are you all right?"

Dooku raised an eyebrow. "What kind of question is that?"

"Jæja, you're not the kind of person to just casually nap, especially when someone is in your house, even someone you trust." Sören raised an eyebrow in return. "You needed to lay down for awhile... did something happen?"

Dooku's immediate impulse was to say "no", but he decided to go with the truth, being in the presence of another Force-sensitive. "Yes and no."

Sören cocked his head to one side, obviously confused by that statement.

Dooku took a deep breath. "The invite from Qui, just got me thinking about how much I've... closed myself off. And I felt very, very sad, and very, very old."

"Oh, Nico." Sören reached out to take Dooku's hand, and squeezed it; Dooku squeezed back.

Dooku felt his throat tighten and his eyes burn. He couldn't speak, and he didn't want to break down crying in front of Sören. Sören seemed to understand that Dooku was on the verge of tears and explaining it all wasn't happening right now, so Sören just squeezed his hand again, then patted, and handed Dooku another slice of pizza.

They polished off the box together, and then just sat for awhile, and eventually, began leaning on each other, not quite cuddling but not entirely not cuddling, either. Dooku wasn't really paying much attention to the program on the BBC - he let himself drift mentally, comforted by the weight of Sören's presence. He could start to feel Sören's Force signature - a waterfall of light, that was like being in a warm, relaxing bath. He felt safe.

And then, feeling safe made him feel afraid again.

Dooku's eyes snapped open - it was getting late, after ten PM now, and they both had to work in the morning. If Sören stayed any later he'd have to offer to let Sören spend the night and he wasn't ready for that yet. Dooku sat up and cleared his throat. "I should take you home," Dooku said.

Sören nodded, a bit reluctantly; Dooku felt the disappointment, and part of him felt bad for disappointing Sören and part of him felt relieved and happy that Sören was even disappointed at the prospect of not spending the night. He found Sören's interest flattering, even though he had spent most of his life not caring about these things, or perhaps pretending not to care.

They drove to Sören's flat in companionable silence, and at the curb in front of the building, they sat for a moment.

"So remember you have a key now," Dooku said.

Sören nodded. "I'll probably be there before you get home, working on the room."

"Thank you for taking care of that," Dooku said, and then, "and other things."

Sören smiled. "I hope you can get a good night's sleep."

"I hope so too. Rest well, yourself, when you get there."

They lingered for a moment, and then Sören leaned in, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and rushed out of the car before it could turn into something more.

Dooku in fact couldn't get right to sleep when he got home, feeling giddy at the physical contact. He had to meditate to wind down, and when he slept, he dreamed of Sören beckoning him to a waterfall, bathing together, embracing, held in his light.

The dreams were so comforting and beautiful that Dooku didn't want to wake up, and swore when his alarm went off. As he started his day he noticed it was raining, which felt appropriate, matching the sudden dark mood he was in - feeling old and sad again, feeling like he'd been starved, robbed of so much life, and now he was in the sunset of his years and here was this man he was falling for and he didn't know _how_ to be with someone and he was afraid of making one wrong move in his awkwardness, and having it all taken away.

Dooku managed to pull himself together to do his job, as usual, but everything _hurt._


	8. Chapter 8

That feeling of _everything hurts_ returned as Dooku and Sören returned from dinner at Qui-Gon's house.

It had been pleasant enough - Qui made _arroz con pollo_ and he and Dooku took time to get caught up, including Dooku meeting Qui and Obi's cats, who were quite taken with Sören and proceeded to climb all over him, much to Sören's delight. There was flan for dessert, as well as scones with homemade jam, and Qui insisted Dooku take home some jam he'd made from his garden over the summer; Qui also made Sören take a jar.

Despite having not been in contact much over the last several years, falling back into conversation with Qui felt natural. Like old times. Dooku knew he'd missed Qui, but hadn't realized until then how much. And now he had a son-in-law, in Obi, and seeing the two of them happy together warmed Dooku's heart.

It made him crave that same kind of happiness with Sören.

It was all too much, at once, letting people in after holding them away for too long. Letting himself feel. Letting himself care, and be cared about.

Because it was already after nine PM and both Dooku and Sören had to work the next morning, Dooku had intended to take Sören straight home. But when they were halfway there, Dooku felt himself fighting off tears, and at last he let out a little shuddery sigh without meaning to, and that and his body language must have given it away.

"Nico," Sören said. "Let's... stop at your place first."

"You're quite sure?" Dooku heard a slight rasp to his voice, indicating he was close to tears.

"Já."

They drove to Dooku's house, in silence, and didn't say anything for the first few minutes, as Dooku made some tea - against his better judgment since it was late, but it felt like a good time for tea. When Dooku brought it in the living room, Sören had Dragos on his lap, and didn't look at him, at first. Then Sören finally looked up, and Dooku saw Sören's own eyes were too bright, like he was ready to cry, himself.

"Are you all right?" Dooku asked.

"No," Sören said, "because you're not, and I can feel it."

Dooku took a deep breath. He should have realized that through their Force bond, Sören would be able to pick up on things. Dooku said nothing, but sat down next to Sören and proceeded to pour them tea.

"I knew you weren't all right over the weekend," Sören said, "when I was painting the room and you took a nap, but I didn't press it then. I'm going to press it now."

Dooku sighed. "I don't even know how to talk about it."

"Well," Sören said, "you need to try. Not just because it's not good for you to hold things inside, but if we're going to..." Sören gestured at Dooku, then himself. "...go forward... that depends on open, honest communication from both of us."

Dooku sat back in his seat, rubbed his face with his hands, and then used the Force to put the teacup in his hands and just held it, noticing his hands were shaking.

Finally, words came. "When I was younger, I was Qui-Gon's mentor for law school. He eventually dropped out and became a veterinarian. I wasn't entirely pleased with this, but I still tried to maintain a friendship with him, as we had become close - like a younger brother or even a son to me. And so we still got together from time to time, still kept in touch regularly... until about twelve years ago. Then things became strained, and we talked maybe once or twice a year. This is the first time I've visited Qui-Gon at his home since then."

"Wow." Sören raised an eyebrow. "Did you guys fight, or...?"

"Not exactly."

Sören sipped his tea, pondering that.

Dooku also sipped his tea, finally, and then he said, "So seeing Qui again, finally... hit a bit of a nerve. It was good to see him again, and I'd like to be less of a stranger. But it also..." Dooku closed his eyes. "I've closed myself off a lot over the last twelve years. Not just Qui. Indeed, I've always had a hard time letting others in, but the last twelve years in particular have been rather solitary. Letting you into my life... and letting Qui back into my life... it's a lot at once."

Sören nodded. "If I may ask, what happened twelve years ago?"

Dooku sighed, gave a nervous laugh, drank more of his tea, put the teacup down, and said, "It's a bit of a long story, and to give you context on that story, I shall need to go further back in time."

"All right."

And Dooku found himself beginning the story that he didn't like to tell, and somehow, amazingly, trusted Sören enough to tell. "When I was fourteen, I was sent to boarding school, which was the norm in those days for young men of my class. It still is, to a point."

"All male?"

"Yes."

Sören's eyebrows both went up, and Dooku gave a small nod, confirming what he knew Sören was thinking. "Yes, there was a lot of that going on there. I didn't engage in any of it myself, but I would be lying if I said I didn't develop certain curiosities during that period of time that never truly went away."

Sören nodded. "Luckily for me."

Dooku chuckled, and then he sobered quickly. "Well, this is relevant to my story. When I was attending boarding school, I had a roommate, named Lorian Newhouse. He and I were friends. I had unrequited feelings for him, which I never told him about, but it's also difficult to live with someone in close proximity and not be able to tell. And I think he knew enough to know he could take advantage of me in different ways - no, not sexual - but, for example, financial; we would receive living stipends from our families and he was well off, of course, as everyone was there, but he could persuade me to buy things for him. Or do favors such as cleaning his half of the room before an inspection. That sort of thing."

"OK, so...?"

"Lorian was not a good student - he was in this school because his family had paid his way in, but he was certainly not Oxford material. He was barely avoiding flunking out of school. I tried to tutor him, but it wasn't working - he was much more interested in sports. One time, in our last year of school, we had a rather important exam coming up, and Lorian stole the answer sheet from one of our teachers. I found out he had it, and I told him he needed to do the right thing and give it back. He told me that if I told anyone he had it, he was going to report me for... inappropriate... behavior. Which I'd never done, but it wouldn't have mattered, if he reported me. I would have been expelled, and that would have ruined my plans for my life."

"So you didn't report him?"

"Oh, I did. Because the mere fact that he'd threatened me with something like that, told me that he was going to make false charges against me _anyway_ , because he could. I was not exactly popular or well-liked at this school - I was at the top of my class, and my peers were jealous, and I was subject to routine bullying. Lorian was my friend in private, or 'friend', I should say... but he was in good enough standing with our peers that he couldn't associate with me freely in public, and lately he'd been getting more pressure to join the bullying. I had no doubt that he would do this just to make an impression on our classmates." Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose. "The problem was, time was of the essence. Lorian was waiting for me to report him within a specific time frame, so he could intercept the report and make false charges first. So I created a distraction by setting off the alarms, so I could see the teacher in question quickly and make the first strike, which resulted in our room being searched and the evidence found. Thus, anything Lorian could say after the fact would just make him look worse."

"Good. I hate bullies." Sören frowned. "I was bullied too."

"It's a common experience of the Force sensitive," Dooku said. "Even when we try to hide it, to suppress it so others don't find out, there's still something about us that stands out, makes us different... something that makes us easy prey."

"Well, also, people are assholes," Sören said.

"That too." Dooku gave a rueful smile.

"So," Sören said, "you said this ties in to whatever happened twelve years ago."

"Yes." Dooku nodded. "Lorian was expelled, but he... retaliated. His friends beat me -" Dooku gestured to his nose. "And he broke in to the school and set our room on fire, when I was sleeping. I escaped as soon as I smelled smoke, but I lost everything I owned, that I had taken with me to that school." Dooku frowned. "At least I knew enough to leave my teddy bear behind at my parents' house, I knew bringing that with me and being seen sleeping with a stuffed toy would end in disaster."

"Still." Sören shook his head. "I'm sorry that happened."

"So am I." Dooku winced as if in pain - it was painful to relive those memories. "So, when I started Oxford, I was fairly traumatized from all of that. I wasn't keen on making another 'friend'. But I did, nonetheless - one of my peers in law school was a man named Sayyid-Diya Ahmadi. He was Iranian, and this was the late 60s into 1970s - when Iran was secular and modernized. There wasn't Islamophobia on the scale that there is now, but nonetheless, he did get some disparaging remarks from some of our peers due to his ethnic background. I wasn't like that, and I was one of the only people in our class who was genuinely interested in his background and culture, because I find these things fascinating. We became friends. In fact... he was directly responsible for 'trying to get me laid' with a woman of the evening on my twenty-first birthday."

Sören laughed.

"He was also the only one of our schoolmates who'd been in on that... nonsense... who knew truly what had happened. I think he put two and two together then, but he didn't remark on it, and... there were reasons why I never tried to explore the interests sparked when I was at boarding school. The 1970s was not a good time to be openly homosexual or bisexual, and indeed, in the 1980s the AIDS crisis hit, and I was paranoid, not simply of catching anything myself, but being in a conservative establishment during the Thatcher era and possibly being outed. I had never forgotten Lorian's threat, and the fear of being outed and having my life ruined has hung over me all these years."

"Fuck," Sören said.

"In addition to my fear of... being hurt. Not wanting to complicate my life. But I'm getting off track here. Sayyid-Diya and I were close friends. I was the best man at his wedding, and the godfather of his son and daughter. My friendship with Sayyid-Diya also thawed me out enough to make another friend - Bolli Ornasson, Leja's adopted father." Dooku finished his tea, and folded his hands. "Some years into my friendship with Sayyid-Diya, I found out that he, too, was Force sensitive. It was something that he hid very well. It's something that you _have_ to hide very well, to get along in this world."

"Já, and it sucks."

"And that is where this story is leading up to."

Sören folded his arms and leaned forward in anticipation.

"Sayyid-Diya's son moved to the United States, and... got a job working at the Twin Towers, in New York City." Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose and then rubbed his face again. "He... was one of the casualties of 9/11."

"Oshit."

Dooku nodded. "Sayyid-Diya was fairly devastated by the loss, and angry and agitated by the Islamophobia that started in the wake of the attacks, because now he and his family were experiencing more prejudice, even though his son had been a victim of the terrorist attack. Sayyid-Diya's emotions were running high, and one afternoon, several months after the death of his son, we had a falling out."

"What happened?"

"Sayyid-Diya said that... if his son had been able to use the Force publicly instead of suppressing it, he might have been able to save himself or others. He went on to say that if there had been any Force sensitives aboard a plane the terrorists were on... they could have stopped what happened. And I told him I doubted that, because there are limits to what one Force sensitive can do. At my full strength in the Force, I might be able to pick up a car, but I would have to be in peak physical and mental condition to do this, and I would be spent for days if not weeks afterwards. I would not be able to re-direct a plane AND fight physical attackers at the same time. But he not only wouldn't listen to that, he said that... we should all come forward, out ourselves to the government, and be registered, so we can use our abilities to fight terrorism, fight crime. And while that is a nice idea in _theory_ , it really isn't in practice. There have been a few individuals who've exposed what they can do, over the last few decades. They were all taken into government custody and never heard from again; there are reports that experiments were conducted on them until they spent themselves and either died from giving themselves aneurysms, or being... terminated. The problem is even if a group of us came forward at once, we would still be outnumbered by an army. Even dozens of us, hundreds, using our powers at once... we would not be able to stop them coming for us. Rather than being able to protect others from danger, we ourselves would be in danger, and unfortunately we would also be endangering every associate and family member we had, as well, including those who are not Force sensitive."

Sören nodded. "As much as it sucks to hide my abilities, I know the alternative is far worse, so I don't disagree with you on that."

"He did. And he stopped talking to me."

Sören reached out for Dooku's hand and squeezed. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It gets worse. A little less than four years later, I got the strange, sudden urge to call him, and see how he was doing, and possibly try to reconcile with him - even though my position on registration still stands. I stopped myself, and I'm not sure why. The date I got this urge? Was July sixth, 2005."

Sören's eyes and Dooku's met, finally, and Dooku continued, "Sayyid-Diya was one of the people killed on the London Underground on 7/7."

"Ah, shit." Sören threw his arms around Dooku. " _That_ was twelve years ago."

Dooku accepted the hug, and found his arms going around Sören in return. "It was. And... after I read his name in the list of casualties, I felt tremendous guilt, and pain. I shut down. I became much more reclusive, feeling like I had failed my best friend - like there was something I could have said or done, and didn't say or do. Feeling like I was somehow responsible for his death, even though I understand, now, I wasn't. Feeling like I should have tried harder to salvage the friendship. Feeling like I failed at every human interaction I had - after all, things had been tense between Qui and myself after he dropped out of law school, as well. So I... withdrew. There's been occasional contact with Qui and Leja, occasional meetings, but there's also been a lot of distance. I haven't been the same since 7/7."

"And that's why you made that remark about me riding the Tube, that night," Sören said.

Dooku nodded, and then he broke down crying, at last.

Sören pulled Dooku close, rocking him as he wept, petting him, making soothing noises. Dooku cried into Sören's chest for what felt like an eternity, and at last, Dooku lifted his head up, and Sören dabbed at his face with a handkerchief.

"I'm sorry," Dooku said.

"For what?" Sören asked.

"Falling apart like that."

"You needed to," Sören said, and reached out to stroke Dooku's face, tenderly. "This is the first time you've been able to get it out. You've needed it. And I'm honored that you trust me with your heart." Sören's fingers trailed down to Dooku's chest, resting on his heart.

The touch made him start crying again.

After a few minutes of crying, Dooku felt Sören pull him off the couch, and marched him down towards the bedroom. Sören gently pushed Dooku to sit on the edge of the bed, and used the Force to pull off Dooku's shoes. Then he used the Force to pull out Dooku's cell phone.

"I need you to do something for me now," Sören told him.

Dooku gave Sören a confused look.

"I need you to call Qui-Gon and tell him what you told me. Visiting him tonight was the first step towards letting him back in your life. But if he doesn't already know what's been going on with you for the last twelve years... you need to tell him. Now."

"I... can't..."

" _Yes, you can._ " Sören frowned. "And you should do this while it's still fresh. Like a shot in the arm, do it, get it over with, so you can keep moving forward with recovery."

Dooku shook his head, weeping harder.

Sören gave a deep, long sigh, like he was dealing with a frustrating child. "Is it all right if I call him, then, and explain this to him on your behalf?"

Dooku nodded.

Sören patted Dooku's knee, and then took Dooku's cell phone and started walking down the hall. Dooku could hear the rise and fall of Sören's voice, the lilting Icelandic accent, nervous laughter and the occasional sad, sympathetic sigh. At last, Sören came back into the bedroom, still talking to Qui on the phone, and he approached Dooku and said, "Qui has something to say to you."

Dooku took the phone. "H-hewwo?" And he was immediately embarrassed that he'd been so overcome by grief and this sudden wave of anxiety that he couldn't even pronounce "hello".

"I want you to know," Qui told him, "that I forgive you, and I have missed you very much, and I love you very much, and I really appreciate you coming by tonight and I hope we'll be seeing each other more often."

"We will," Dooku said, and then he started crying again.

It was obvious on the other end of the line that Qui was crying too. "I'm sorry, on my part, that I didn't try to press what was going on. That I just assumed you... thought I'd failed you in some way... and your withdrawal was out of anger or disapproval, rather than... this."

"I wish I'd been able to tell you," Dooku said. "I'm... not good with feelings."

"Well, that I know. But you still have them, and... it seems like you have someone who can help you navigate them, now."

"Thank you." Dooku cried some more, and Qui did too.

Finally Qui said, "All right, I should let you go, it's late and we both have to work in the morning."

"Yes. Take care, and... call me this weekend, we can schedule dinner again for next week if you like."

"I would like that. Good night."

Dooku flipped his phone closed, and then used the Force to put it on the bedtable next to his bed. He looked at the time and grimaced, because he felt too tired to get up and drive Sören home.

But Sören was already in his closet. "We're roughly the same size... you have a pair of pajamas I can borrow?"

"You..."

Sören glanced at Dooku over his shoulder. "Well, do you or don't you?"

"Yes. They're all... black. Towards the back, right hand side."

Sören smiled. "Black has always been my color."

Sören took a pair of pajamas, let himself in the bathroom, and returned wearing the pajamas. Then he used the Force to throw a pair of pajamas at Dooku.

"I take it this means you're not going home tonight," Dooku said.

"No," Sören said.

"I'll... set the alarm to take you home on my way to work, on time. But... Sören." Dooku hung his head. "I hope you're not expecting that... tonight. It's not that I'm not interested ever, it's that tonight would be too much -"

"I'm not," Sören said. "I just want to hold you, is all."

For the first time in sixty-eight years of his life, Dooku shared a bed with another person. No sex, just laying in Sören's arms, being held, being petted, being comforted. Sören was so _warm_ , like a living blanket, and it soothed and relaxed him. The rhythm of Sören's heartbeat eventually lulled Dooku to sleep. In the middle of the night, Dooku woke up and there was a moment where he was startled at the presence in his bed, then he relaxed and rolled into Sören again, whose arms tightened around him, and their legs entwined. When Dooku woke up to the sound of the alarm, Sören was spooning him, stroking his face and his beard. Dooku rolled over to watch Sören shut off the alarm, and then he sat up and they just looked at each other for a few minutes.

"Thank you," Dooku said, reaching out to take Sören's hands, and squeeze them.

Sören brought Dooku's hands to his lips to kiss them, and then climbed off the bed, to take his clothes into the bathroom.

Physically sleeping with another person was the most intimate act of Dooku's life thus far, and he felt shy as he drove Sören to the coffee shop. They lingered, when they got there, giving each other a long, meaningful look. Dooku half-hoped Sören would kiss him, but he was nervous enough to tremble visibly, and he could tell in the Force that Sören didn't want to cause him any further anxiety.

"I'll see you on Saturday," Sören said.

"You're not coming tonight?"

"I promised Frankie I'd spend some time with her. I don't want to turn into that guy who ditches his friends because he has a boyfriend."

 _He called me his..._ Dooku's heart raced and his face flushed, his stomach turning flip-flops. He felt himself smile, and Sören's smile in return dazzled him.

Sören patted Dooku's hand. "I'll see you Saturday afternoon. I'm making good progress on the room, and I might actually have the mural finished by Monday if I work on it all weekend."

"Do you... want to spend the weekend?"

"I do, but... I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for. We can just sleep together without, uh, sleeping together."

"I appreciate that." Dooku took Sören's hands. "You're a gentleman."

"Well, I'm a gentleman for now. I don't make any promises about later, once you're ready." Sören's eyes twinkled.

Before Dooku could make incoherent flustered noises, Sören blew him a kiss and bolted out of his car.


	9. Chapter 9

When Sören arrived at Dooku's house on Saturday night, he got to work immediately, the door to the meditation room closed, various genres of music playing. Since Sören was in fact there to work on the meditation room mural, Dooku didn't expect much in the way of his company, but found himself missing it nonetheless. At six PM, Dooku knocked on the door and asked Sören if he'd like to have dinner; Sören's response was "in a little while". A half-hour passed, Dooku knocked again, was told "in a little while" again, and at last, at seven PM, Dooku returned.

"It's seven now," Dooku said, "and I am getting hungry, so I will be eating with or without you."

"All right, give me one minute."

One minute became five, and finally Sören opened the door of the meditation room, came out with his clothes splattered in paint, and said, "Let me change my clothes first." Dooku nodded, and gestured to his bedroom, where Sören had stashed a duffel bag when he first arrived; Sören closed the bedroom door - Dooku got the sense it was more for Dooku's sake than his own, since Sören could pick up on the shyness and anxiety Dooku had about such matters still. Five minutes later, Sören opened the door and stepped out in black trousers and a black button-down shirt, looking sharp - neither under-dressed nor over-dressed.

Bermondsey had a reputation as a foodie's paradise, and it was difficult to make a decision where to go, but Dooku and Sören mutually agreed on an Indian restaurant not far from Dooku's home. Over their meal, Sören was quiet - Dooku could feel the artist's mind was kilometers away, perhaps even in other dimensions, and he felt as if he would be intruding by trying to initiate conversation. But at last, as their meal was over and they were waiting for the check, Dooku felt he had to say something.

"How's it coming along?" he asked.

Sören didn't answer that immediately, as he was drinking another glass of water - he'd already gone through a pitcher and a half of ice water, which Dooku attributed to Sören not taking breaks over the last several hours, working feverishly non-stop. But at last Sören nodded and said, "It's getting there."

"You've been working quite hard." Dooku sipped his ice water more slowly, while Sören gulped his down. "This has been your first break in hours."

Sören nodded. "I'm like this when I paint."

"Ah." Dooku didn't know what else to say.

"My muse is very all-or-nothing. I can go for weeks with a dry spell, even if I have a project in mind. When my muse decides to cooperate, I have to ride the wave until it's over, or risk it going away and leaving me hanging, project unfinished. And that makes me cranky."

"I suppose that makes sense," Dooku said.

Sören snorted. "It makes no fucking sense, actually. There's advice from professional creative people to write, paint, draw a little every day, like thirty minutes a day, in your spare time. My muse doesn't work like that. It doesn't run on an on-off switch where it cooperates with having a normal schedule. I try to set aside time for it, it doesn't want to come out and play then. It decides to drop by at inconvenient times. That's also why I'm thirty-two and work as a fucking barista instead of trying to have a 'real job' like 'normal people'."

"I see."

Sören nodded. "This mural I'm doing... consumes me. When I agreed to take the commission from you I thought it would take longer than this because, to be honest, I didn't know how my muse was going to act, and didn't want to give you unrealistic expectations of when it would be done and leave you hanging. I didn't expect to be inspired the way that this is inspiring me."

Dooku could feel it, and he reached across the table, then, to cover Sören's hand with his, his fingers lightly brushing across Sören's fingertips. Sören looked down, and then gave Dooku that shy, radiant smile that made his heart leap and stomach flutter.

"You're touching the Force," Dooku said, softly. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

Sören looked down again. "Thank you for bearing with me while it happens. I don't mean to ignore you..."

"No, I understand." Dooku took a deep breath. "It's enough that you said what you did, on Friday morning."

Sören raised an eyebrow.

"You called me your..." Dooku coughed, nervous. "Boyfriend." He gulped down water, face flushed.

"Oh. Ah." Sören laughed. "I did."

Dooku nodded, feeling sheepish and flustered all at once. "You did. I'm not a boy, but..."

"There are not really any better words in the English language for it," Sören said. He smiled, and said, " _Elskan mín. Ástvinur._ "

Dooku didn't know much Icelandic, but he'd heard Leja refer to Hans as those things enough times to have a rough idea of what it meant, and it made his smile turn into a grin, and the flush in his face creep into his ears.

"I suppose then," Sören said, "this is technically our first date."

"I suppose it is."

"I'm sorry that I will have to get right back to work when we get back to your place," Sören said, frowning a little. Then his eyes twinkled and he grinned as he said, "I'll make it up to you at some point."

"Oh." Dooku gave another nervous laugh when he realized what Sören implied.

Once they were back at Dooku's house, Sören changed back into his paint-splattered ratty jeans and T-shirt, and before he could go back to the meditation room, his phone went off, vibrating. Sören took it out of his pocket, replied to a text message - "it's Frankie", he told Dooku, who nodded - and then Sören examined his smartphone, frowning.

"What's the matter?" Dooku asked.

"It's got paint on it," Sören said. "I don't know how the fuck that happened."

"Probably because you were painting."

Sören raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at Dooku, said, " _Really? WOW,_ " and then laughed, and Dooku laughed with him.

"As you know..." Dooku said.

Sören elbowed him in the ribs, playfully, and then he said, "OK, I need to not take this in there with me - I shouldn't have taken it in there with me to begin with, but I forget it's in my pocket sometimes."

"You could put it on my bedtable -"

"No, I don't want this going off if you're in the middle of sleeping and I'm in here painting, and I don't want to shut it off in case it's important..." Sören squinted and frowned again. "Plus it needs to be charged. Shit."

"I can take it into the study with me and charge it for you."

"Please do that, já." Sören retrieved his phone charger from the duffel bag, and Dooku took Sören's smartphone and charger down the hall to the study.

Dooku had a flip phone, but it wasn't impossible for him to figure out how to charge Sören's phone; he plugged the USB in to his laptop, and continued with the research on his latest case. Dragos climbed on his lap for pettings, and Dooku stroked the cat absent-mindedly as he surfed the web and made notes, sometimes stopping to type up a few paragraphs.

Sören's phone went off again, after a couple of hours, and Dooku glanced at it and saw it was a text from a number identified as Frankie's. He got up, walked down the hall, and knocked on the door to the meditation room. "Sören, you have a text message from Frankie."

"Oh, OK, do me a favor and look to see if it's important?"

Dooku had no idea how to use Sören's smartphone - it took him over a minute to figure out how to get past the desktop and access the list of options. The latest text message from Frankie simply said _G'night, arseface_ , and Dooku saw the one she had sent just before Sören gave him the phone to charge: _Can I eat your leftovers?_

Dooku's curiosity got the better of him and he pressed the "Sent" button and saw Sören's response to that: _Go ahead._ His last several texts had all been to Frankie, so Dooku didn't scroll down.

Back on the main menu, Dooku's finger accidentally hit the Media button, and there were two folders, Photos and Video. Dooku felt a little self-conscious about it, like he was prying and should stop, but his curiosity got the better of him. He accessed the Photo album, and looked through a gallery - selfies, works-in-progress of canvases, candids of him and Frankie, various sights around the London metropolitan area. There were other albums but Dooku again felt that pang of doing something forbidden, so he went back to the Media page... and then, before he could stop himself, he hit Video.

There was a video file simply titled "ride". Since Sören had described his creativity as riding a wave, and there had also been a number of photographs of different locales as well as flora and fauna, Dooku expected the video to be Sören painting or taking a trip. What he found was something completely different.

At first, it looked like a shot of Sören's bed. Dooku didn't understand it, and kept watching. Then he saw something blocking the view - pale, like a closeup of flesh. He kept watching, and it moved out of the way, but now there was a phallic-shaped object, large and black, propped up on Sören's bed. He watched as Sören climbed on the bed, completely nude - he had no chest hair, but there was a line of dark hair from his navel leading to a thick, curly bush framing his cock, which was quite erect. Sören knelt over the phallus. Then, he watched as Sören sank down onto it, slowly, gasping, shuddering, crying out once it was all the way inside.

He watched as Sören worked his hips, the cock moving in and out of him slowly, then faster, until Sören was riding like he was on a bull. Stroking himself in rhythm with the cock inside of him, moaning. Free hand caressing his nipples, playing with them. It was then that Dooku realized Sören had his nipples pierced - a small steel captive bead ring in each - and the head of his cock was also pierced with a captive bead ring. In the dim light of Sören's room and shoddy video quality of the cell phone's camera, Dooku could still see that Sören's cock was dripping precum.

Dooku's own cock was hard now, and he found himself rubbing his erection through his trousers, not realizing until then that he had been doing so. He felt ashamed - he was definitely prying now - but he couldn't stop watching. He'd never watched pornography before, he found the concept cheap and degrading, and yet the sight of Sören riding the cock was the opposite of that. Sören looked like a sex god, and Dooku had never been so inflamed with lust in his life.

Sören continued to ride the cock and stroke himself, moaning, and soon Sören's hand was working himself furiously, and he was fucking himself on the cock so hard that the bed was audibly rocking against the wall. There was a moment where Sören tensed, a look of shock and wonder on his face, and he cried out as his hand was coated with his seed, and Dooku watched the seed spray all over the bed, all over Sören's chest.

That was enough. There were more videos, but Dooku's hands were shaking. Somehow, he navigated back to the desktop, and then found his way down the hall, head spinning. He thought about opening the door to the meditation room, wrestling Sören to the floor, and doing things to him, but he remembered he didn't know the first thing about having sex, and even if he did, Sören was lost in his muse - there was a moment when Dooku reached out to see if Sören had sensed anything via their Force bond, but Sören was far away, the Living Force surrounding him in clouds of color and light.

Dooku did knock on the door of the meditation room, and said, simply, "The message was nothing important, just Frankie saying good night to you. I... I'm going to bed." It was indeed getting late, and Dooku was as tired as he was aroused.

"All right. Sleep well."

Dooku's clothes couldn't come off fast enough, and once he was under the covers, in his pajamas, he finished himself off, thinking about what he'd watched, reaching his climax when he thought about his cock inside Sören the way Sören had taken the fake one... Sören riding him, coating him with his seed when he came. Dooku had to cry out into his pillow, shaking violently as his body gave into a toe-curling orgasm, completely soaking his hand and his pajama bottoms and blanket. _Fuck, I need to wash that._ In a sudden flash of anxiety, Dooku thought about going to the nearby twenty-four laundromat and starting a load right then, but he also felt weightless, boneless, like he was floating from the intensity of his release, and quickly lost motivation to go anywhere and do anything, just lay there, deeply relaxed and content until sleep washed over him.

_

Sören either had pulled an all-nighter or he'd slept only briefly, because Sören was still working when Dooku woke up the next morning.

Dooku offered to make Sören breakfast, but Sören declined, and that was just as well because Dooku started feeling self-conscious again about what he'd watched, and his reaction to it. After breakfast Dooku attempted to do some more work on his case, but his mind kept going to the delicious video footage of Sören riding that cock and stroking himself, and Dooku felt flustered and aroused again - not as urgently as last night, but enough that he had to masturbate in the bathroom.

Temporarily sated, Dooku decided getting out of the house awhile would do some good, and Sören would probably appreciate another home-cooked meal, so after informing Sören he was going out grocery shopping, Dooku took off.

When he came back, Dooku didn't hear music from the meditation room. After he put the groceries away, he heard something that sounded like snoring from the living room, and he paused in the doorway to the living room, to see Sören asleep on the couch. Dragos was laying on the ottoman next to the couch, keeping watch.

Dooku smiled fondly. He wished he'd explained better to Sören it would have been fine to take his bed, but he supposed Sören didn't want to inconvenience him in some way. Dooku went down the hall, got a clean blanket from his closet, came back to the living room, and covered Sören with it. Sören was in a deep enough sleep that it didn't wake him, but it was then that Dooku noticed Sören was clutching a stuffed doll - Eeyore from _Winnie-the-Pooh_ , obviously brought from home.

The sight made Dooku feel protective and tender towards him; it was indescribably precious, and brought tears to his eyes. Dooku understood, then, why Sören hadn't judged him for sleeping with a teddy bear. Sleeping with a stuffed toy was Sören's own secret, one that he was letting Dooku see now, and something about that felt intimate.

Dooku tried to re-center his mind on his work, until late afternoon rolled around and Dooku felt it was time to start dinner. He was making steak, baked potatoes, and a salad - simple enough, but he wanted the steak to be seasoned well, which meant preparation.

As the steak and potatoes cooked, Dooku went back to the study, keeping an eye on the time, and at last, just before dinner was ready, Dooku walked back into the living room, and gently shook Sören's shoulder. "Sören."

"Huhhhh?" Sören whined.

"Sören. Dinner's almost ready."

Sören sat up with a start. "Oh shit, what time is it -"

"Six-thirty. You've slept a few hours."

"Fuck." Sören rubbed his eyes. "Shit..."

"It's all right. You can resume work on the room after you eat, but I insist you eat first."

Sören looked up at Dooku, then at the blanket, then at Eeyore, then at Dooku again. "I, uh... there wasn't a blanket here when I lay down."

"No." Dooku gave a small smile. "I tucked you in."

Sören smiled back. "I see. Thank you."

Dooku reached out his hand, and pulled Sören to his feet. They stood there for a moment, lost in one of those meaningful looks like there was an expectation of something more, and then Dooku said, "Right, dinner," and departed to the kitchen.

The meal was delicious, and Sören complimented Dooku's cooking, and insisted on doing the dishes.

"You're a guest -" Dooku protested.

"And you went to a lot of trouble for me. Please."

Dooku conceded, and once the dishes were rinsed and the dishwasher loaded, Sören walked out of the kitchen, where Dooku was having a spot of tea in the living room.

"Would you like to join me for tea?" Dooku asked.

"I need to get started on this while my muse is still cooperating with me." Sören frowned apologetically. "I'm sorry, Nico."

"I understand."

" _Soon._ "

Dooku went to bed alone that night, and Sören apparently pulled another all-nighter, but nonetheless, was preparing to go to work as usual when Dooku woke up and knocked on the meditation room door to inquire.

They rode into Greenwich in silence - Dooku stopped at a drive-thru to get coffee for Sören on the way there, and Sören still looked ready to pass out.

Finally, in front of the coffee shop where Sören lived and worked, Sören paused before he got out of the car, to finish his coffee, and look at Dooku.

"I only work four hours today," Sören said, "so I'll be there finishing the room before you get out of work."

"You're almost done?"

"I told you I'd likely be done Monday if all went according to plan. I didn't exaggerate."

"That's impressive."

"Don't be too impressed yet, wait till you've seen it, and once you have you can tell me if any changes need to be made. But..." Sören ran a hand through his hair. "If for some reason you should leave work early and you're there before I'm there, don't... look... at it until I show you."

Dooku nodded. "All right. I wasn't planning on it... are you coming straight from work, then?"

"I have to take care of something and then I'll be over, likely before you get there." Sören didn't say what it was, and Dooku didn't pry.

Sören took a moment to squeeze him tight, and then kissed Dooku's cheek, making Dooku flush and stammer, and their eyes held as Sören exited the car.

Just that instant of physical contact had Dooku hard again, but he managed to pull himself together before work.

_

Sören was indeed back when Dooku got home; Dooku had a bit of a rough day and he decided to just spend awhile in the living room, curled up with Dragos, drinking tea, zoning out to the BBC. He had been close to falling asleep on the couch when he heard Sören clearing his throat.

"It's finished," Sören said.

Dooku got up, slowly, and followed Sören down the hall. Once they arrived at the meditation room door, Sören said to Dooku, "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just... close them. I want to take you on a bit of a tour and it's better if we start at a specific spot."

Dooku sighed and closed his eyes, and Sören led him by the hand into the room. A few paces in, Sören turned Dooku to face the wall and said, "All right, open your eyes."

Dooku opened his eyes and saw a black background with a bright purple cartoon of a penis with buttocks, and what appeared to be a penis with testicles protruding from the buttocks.

Dooku's eyes narrowed, and his jaw set. "What. Is. _That._ "

"That, Nico, is a dickbutt."

Dooku turned to glare at Sören, who looked deadly serious in return. "What, you don't appreciate fine art?' Sören asked. "I worked so hard on that..."

Dooku's glare intensified, and then Sören's laughter rang out, and Dooku watched as Sören reached out to pull off black tissue paper from the wall - which had the "dickbutt" painted on it - and then Dooku was looking at blue and purple swirls, with what looked like stars between.

Sören took Dooku's hand again, and led him backwards to the center of the room, where Dooku could take it all in from one side to the other, and then turn around to see the rest of it. The entire room looked like space, nebulas, novas, and stars. The nebulas and stars even seemed to glow. The effect was impressive, and immediately Dooku felt himself being transported, like he was in the womb of the universe itself, touching the Force.

"This is magnificent," Dooku said in a hushed voice, with awe.

Sören squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you approve."

"Approve is an understatement. I don't think I have words to do... this... justice."

Sören stepped in front of Dooku, and took both his hands. "So you forgive me for the dickbutt? I couldn't resist playing a bit of a joke -"

Dooku's response was to throw his arms around Sören and squeeze him tightly. Sören, in return, also put his arms around Dooku, and they just held each other for a moment, with Dooku's face in Sören's shoulder, shaking with silent tears, overcome with emotion he couldn't quantify or articulate, only that Sören had managed to express the deepest part of his soul that he had never shared with another, and that was humbling and terrifying and beautiful all at once.

When Dooku lifted his face, his forehead was pressed against Sören's, and their eyes met, and Sören could see he had been crying - he'd felt it, but now he could see it. Sören reached out to trace the trail of a teardrop, his fingers gentle, and Sören moved in, his nose nuzzling Dooku's. Then, at last, their lips brushed, and Sören's full, soft lips lingered, inviting. Dooku had never kissed anyone, and when Sören opened his mouth, Dooku opened his, and the feeling of Sören's tongue entering his mouth, their tongues meeting, swirling, playing together, made his knees weak, his hands tremble.

The kiss deepened, more insistent, and Dooku heard himself moan into the kiss, and Sören groaned in response. Sören's hands were stroking his back now, and Dooku found his own hands wandering up and down Sören's back, at last cupping the firm, taut ass and gently kneading.

They pulled apart, breathing hard, and then Sören kissed him again, and again, and their tongues playfully licked together between kisses, and Dooku was hard now, and he could feel Sören's own erection pressing against him. At the feel of Sören's hardness, Dooku pulled back, shaking, panting, not sure what to do, feeling shy and nervous again.

"I'm sorry," Dooku said. "I..."

"It's OK, Nico," Sören said. "I understand."

Dooku smiled shyly. "I do... desire you. It's just..."

"I know." Sören pressed his finger to Dooku's lips. "It's all right."

Dooku sighed, and groaned involuntarily when Sören took his finger away, already aching for his touch again. "I am an old man who has much to learn."

"We can take this one step at a time. And... here's the first step."

Dooku watched as Sören reached into his pocket, and Sören produced what looked like paper, folded up. Sören unfolded the paper - it was a couple of sheets - and he handed it to Dooku. "Here."

Dooku took it and saw the name of a medical office. "What's this?"

"When I was out with Frankie on Friday, one of the things I did was go to a clinic and... get tested. And that thing I told you I had to take care of was going back there to get the lab results."

Dooku glanced down and saw Sören's name and a battery of tests for HIV and various sexually transmitted infections...

"All negative," Sören said, and that was confirmed on the sheets of paper.

Dooku handed the test results back to Sören. Sören explained, "I take what you say about no prior sexual history at face value - I believe you, I don't sense deceit on your part. In my case, it's been six months since the last time I had sex with anyone, so these test results should be accurate."

"Six months? I would have thought less than that." Dooku went on, sheepishly, "You're an attractive young man -"

"I'm a man with an anxiety disorder and an unwillingness to put up with certain behaviors and... you've seen how I am about my art," Sören said. "There comes a point when sex for its own sake isn't as fulfilling, and I decided awhile back I wanted the next time to be with someone I actually cared about." Sören looked Dooku in the eye and said softly, "That person is you."

Dooku made more tea, and they sat on the couch together. "This is still all so new to me," Dooku said, after he'd finished his cup. "Including being cared about this way."

"I do." Sören sighed. "We may not know much about each other and yet, we still _know_ each other. There's a connection."

"Indeed, there is." Dooku looked at Sören, and found himself reaching out to stroke Sören's curls, his face, his beard. "What you did in there..." He gestured vaguely down the hall, to the meditation room. "Nobody else has ever done. I knew you'd be able to do something miraculous with the meditation room, but I didn't expect it to be _so_... perfect."

"I tried my best."

"As Master Yodha would say, 'do or not do. There is no try.'"

Sören took the hand that had been petting him, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. "And that, is where we are at now. You don't have to try. Trying too hard... defeats the spontaneity, the natural flow of things. Just let things be, let them manifest, one step at a time... like the way the stars reveal themselves to us, one by one."

"I want to kiss you again."

"Please."

They kissed, and soon they were necking, hands roaming; Dooku groaned as Sören kissed his neck - just his neck alone was so sensitive, almost unbearably so, and Dooku heard his ragged breath, heard himself making noises he'd never made before as Sören's sweet lips and clever tongue played there. And then their mouths were together again, tongues exploring, dancing, _fucking_...

Dooku felt something vibrate, and then he heard "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin. Sören's eyes widened with shock, and he immediately pulled off Dooku, fumbling till he got his smartphone out of his pocket. "Shit, I have to take this," Sören said, and Dooku nodded.

Sören's face lit up as he took the call. "Dagnýr! _Hvað segirðu?_ " And then there was a male voice on the other end, speaking very fast Icelandic, sounding panicked and upset, and Sören's face fell. After a couple of minutes, Sören said, " _Hvað? Gætirðu sagt þetta aftur?_ " There was a sharp sound of breath on the other end, and then the same voice, attempting to speak more slowly - not really doing very well - and Dooku noticed that Sören was starting to look upset, on the verge of tears.

A few minutes later there was a pause, and Sören waited a moment before speaking again. " _Ég skil. Það verður erfitt, en ég vil ekki að þú sért að gera þetta einan. Ég mun finna leið til að komast þangað. Eins fljótt og hægt er._ "

More Icelandic on the other end, and Sören looking more agitated and upset, visibly crying now, and when it was his turn to speak, he said, " _Ég veit ekki... Ég mun athuga verð á flugmiðum. Ég verð að taka frí frá vinnu. Verður sársauki í rassinni... Ég mun reikna það út. Ég mun vera þar í þessari viku. Hugsanlega um leið og daginn eftir á morgun._ "

More frantic, upset Icelandic, and Sören shook his head and waved his hand as if the person on the other end was right there in front of him, and he cut in. " _Ekki halda því fram við mig, litli bróðir. Ég verð að gera þetta. Og augljóslega þarf ég að gera þetta núna. Hún kann þegar að vera farinn af þeim tíma sem ég kem þar. En ef hún hefur að minnsta kosti nokkra daga, þá get ég verið þar þegar það er kominn tími. Allt í lagi?_ "

A resigned sigh, some " _Jæja, já, já_ " from the man at the other end, more Icelandic, and then Sören at last said, " _Ég verð að útskýra þetta fyrir manninn sem ég sé_." A surprised chuckle, and Sören rolled his eyes and said, " _Já, ég er núna að deita einhverjum núna. Ég verð að láta hann vita hvað er að gerast. Þá ætla ég að vinna út upplýsingar um flug. Ég mun hringja í þig um leið og ég hef keypt miðann og ég veit hvenær flugið mitt er að koma._ "

Another sigh from the man at the other end, and Dooku heard " _Takk. Fyrirgefðu -_ "

Sören shook his head again and cut in, " _Þú ert bróðir minn. Hætta að biðjast afsökunar._ "

" _Ég elska þig_ ," said the man on the other end, and Sören smiled through his tears and said, " _Ég elska þig líka_."

And then Sören ended the call, and hung his head, looking crushed.

Dooku used the Force to bring over a box of tissues. "Darling?" The word just came out, naturally. "Who was that? What happened?"

"That was my brother, Dagnýr." Sören took a few tissues and began to wipe at his tears, but he was still crying, and when his eyes met Dooku's he wept afresh.

"I'm going to assume everything is not all right."

"No."

Dooku went to the kitchen to get Sören some ice water, and sat patiently while Sören drank the water and attempted to pull himself together enough to talk. Both men were no longer erect - the upset phone call had killed the mood - and Sören was paler than usual, a haunted look on his face.

At last, Sören said, "There's been a family emergency and I need to go to Iceland immediately."

"You... are... coming back, right?" Dooku found himself worried.

Sören nodded. "Yes. But I don't know how long I'll be there, and that's part of the problem."

Dooku waited some more, and Sören drank more water, and then he said, "My aunt is in the final stages of cancer, and by final I mean she's expected to die within a few weeks, possibly a few days."

"Your... aunt. Were you close to her?"

Sören gave a small, bitter smile. "No, I wasn't."

"Then why... do you have to go back...?"

Sören took a deep breath. He leaned back on the couch. Dragos hopped onto the ottoman and then Sören's lap with an inquisitive chirp, and Sören began petting him. "My father died when I was too small to know or remember him, and then my mother died when I was six. My brother, sister and I were taken in by my aunt and uncle and raised by them. Or I should say, 'raised.'" Sören made air quotes with his fingers. "They were alcoholics and they were pretty fucking abusive to us and our cousin."

"I'm sorry," Dooku said.

"Já, so am I." Sören sighed. "So, I grew up in Akureyri, and I was a star student, hoping that maybe if I just tried hard enough, my aunt and uncle would approve of me somehow. But they never did. I went to med school because I was haunted by watching my mother die when I was a kid, and I wanted to save people. And I had that breakdown in med school I told you about, and when I recovered, sort of, I decided I was just going to try to make a living as an artist. Which _of course_ they didn't approve of."

Dooku waited, not wanting to repeat the question of why Sören had to go back, after he'd been abused by an alcoholic aunt who was now dying.

"Several years ago, though, after my uncle died, my aunt found Jesus. Which, you know... is a load of bullshit, but she started apologizing to me and my brother and sister and cousin for what she'd done, and trying to make up to us. And after all she did, I can't bring myself to hate her. I haven't entirely forgiven her, either, but I... she knows she fucked up, and she's at least been trying to be a better person. I knew she had cancer, but I thought it had gone into remission, and of course she was all like 'praise God' when it happened, thinking God had cured her. But... here we are. She's not only out of remission, but she's not going to make it much longer. My brother came back home from Canada because our cousin is a wreck, and my brother's all stressed out now... and I told him I'd be there, this week. To say goodbye. But I'm not really doing it for her. I'm doing it for myself, and I'm doing it for my brother and my cousin, to be there for them, and to be there _with_ them, as we have all these shitty mixed emotions to deal with. It's not gonna be a fun time, Nico."

"So... you have to leave soon."

"Very soon. As soon as we're done with this discussion, I have to call my boss to let her know I'm going to need anywhere from a week to a month off work, I have to tell Frankie what's going on - there is a chance I may lose my job over this. Then I have to buy a plane ticket. And since I'm going on very short notice, that's going to be expensive. I would like to be on a plane by no later than forty-eight hours, possibly as soon as tomorrow if I can get it." Sören shook his head. "Fuck having my rent paid the next few months - all of that's going to get eaten by this trip, and then of course I may not have a place to work or place to live when I get back -"

Dooku put up his hand. He cleared his throat. "I will buy your ticket." And then, on an impulse that was not like him, he said, "And I'm coming with you."

"Nico. Your job... _your cat._ "

"I have vacation time that I haven't used at all this year, and I'm going to cash it in for the next month. I could possibly even get the rest of the year off. I have a case I'm working on, but I can hand it off to someone else rather easily. As for Dragos..." Dooku reached out to scratch the cat behind the ears, who purred. "I'll ask Qui-Gon if he can watch Dragos for me."

"You think he'll put up with those other cats?"

"He'll have to, but Qui has a way with animals and I'm sure Dragos will be putty in his hands in no time." Dooku pursed his lips and gave Sören a serious look. "I'll only stay behind if you don't want me to come with you - if you think it might make things awkward with your family - but I think you need the emotional support through this and I want to be there for you."

Sören picked up Dragos and put him down on the ottoman, and leaned in to throw his arms around Dooku and squeeze. "I appreciate that, Nico. I really, really, really do."

Dooku held Sören close and tight, rubbing his back, petting his hair. "I'll help you get through this, darling."

Sören broke down, sobbing, and Dooku rocked him gently until the tears subsided. It was already getting late. Dooku sighed as he looked at the clock, and Sören did too.

"I have to make some phone calls," Sören said, "and then look at ticket prices -"

Dooku nodded. "I had planned on taking you out to dinner to celebrate the room, but... takeaway instead?"

Sören nodded back. "Get a pizza, and I'm sorry -"

"It's all right." Dooku sighed. "It's... quite alright."

_

They would be on a flight from London to Reykjavik via IcelandAir in less than twenty-four hours, and it was only a three-hour trip. Qui was coming at one in the afternoon to pick up Dragos, but before and after that time, they had to prepare and pack.

Dooku made them go to bed at a "decent hour", even though Sören was agitated and not in the least bit tired, and Dooku himself was concerned and feeling protective and vigilant. They lay there together in Dooku's bed, in their pajamas. Despite their feverish necking session on the couch earlier, Sören was too upset to go further, and Dooku's mind was more occupied with getting Sören to sleep, somehow. So Dooku just held him, pet him, and attempted to use the Force to bring down Sören's anxiety one rung at a time, until at last Sören's guard was down enough for Dooku to use his Force Heal abilities to soothe Sören to sleep.

Dooku watched Sören sleep for awhile before his own rest claimed him. They were entangled when the alarm woke them up, but Dooku didn't get out of bed right away like he normally did - he just held Sören for close to an hour, being the strength that his partner needed.

 _My partner._ He looked at Sören, beautiful in his vulnerability. _My beloved._

There was an unspoken tension between them - that Dooku going with Sören to Iceland for such an emotionally intense trip, and would be meeting Sören's family, and touching Sören's deepest wounds, had stepped things up. It had already become official, and now it was looking serious. That scared Dooku a little, but he also found that he was OK with it... like he'd been ready for this, somehow, his entire life.

Sören managed to nap on the plane ride, and Dooku watched him sleep, fondly. As the plane touched down in Reykjavik, Dooku woke him with a gentle kiss. "Welcome home," he said, softly.

"This isn't home," Sören whispered back. "You are my home."

In the midst of their sorrow, there was a moment of quiet joy.


	10. Chapter 10

Sören and Dooku checked their luggage, and then out of the corner of his eye Dooku saw a man holding a large sign that said SÖREN SIGURDSSON. Dooku knew enough about Icelandic culture and Icelandic names to know that his partner was probably not the only Sören Sigurdsson in Iceland, but he also knew that the chances of there being another Sören Sigurdsson on that same flight, arriving in Keflavik International Airport at that same time, were slim. Before he could nudge Sören to confirm, however, he noticed Sören noticing the sign, and the way Sören's face lit up and he rushed over to the man holding the sign was more than enough confirmation.

Dooku, though spry for his age, took a couple minutes longer to make his way through the crowd. Sören was still hugging the man holding the sign, and Dooku felt almost rude for clearing his throat.

Sören pulled away, one arm still around the sign-holder. He looked at Dooku, and then gestured towards the other man. "Nico, this is my little brother, Dagnýr."

The man shook his head, chuckling. "I'm only seven minutes younger than you and you keep calling me that."

"You act even younger than that, sometimes," Sören said, his tone affectionately teasing.

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

Sören turned to Dooku, smirking. "See what I mean?"

"You're fraternal twins." It just slipped out, an obvious statement, and one that Dooku immediately felt sheepish for making, considering how obvious it was. Dagnýr was tall, but a couple inches shorter than Sören, they both had dark hair, pale skin, and were boyishly handsome, but Sören had a heart-shaped face, full lips, and a smoldering default expression, and Dagnýr had a more oval face and a boy-next-door look; Dagnýr's eyes were grey. They were also dressed very differently, Sören all in black, even a black trenchcoat, Dagnýr in a grey plaid flannel shirt and jeans under his winter apparel. Dagnýr was also clean-shaven, unlike his brother, and his hair was short, though somewhat unruly.

"That we are," Dagnýr said. It was then that Dooku noticed Dagnýr had only the faintest touch of an Icelandic accent - he sounded American or Canadian; Dooku remembered that Leja had said her son Matt was dating Sören's brother and they lived in Canada -

"Hey," came a deep voice, another North American accent. Dooku looked at a man standing next to Dagnýr that had been there the entire time, but he hadn't really registered until then. The man was also tall, with a mop of wild dyed platinum blonde hair that looked almost like a wig, wore thick "nerd" glasses, and was dressed similarly to Dagnýr; he was clean-shaven, and looked more like Sören's brother than Dagnýr did, though the man had large ears and a trail of beauty marks on his face, while Sören had smaller ears and was clear-skinned. Even without the information Leja had given him, the face was familiar - Dooku had known this man since he was a small child. He still hadn't grown into those ears.

"Hello, Matt," Dooku said, smiling. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise," Matt Sulu said, nodding. He took Dooku's hand and shook it.

"Ah, you've met," Dagnýr said, and then he smirked and went on, "but we haven't."

"Right," Sören said, looking almost flustered. "I was going to finish that introduction. Dagnýr, this is my partner, Ion Nicolae Dooku."

Dagnýr's eyebrows raised, his lips quirked with what seemed like amusement, and he nodded. "You mentioned yesterday on the phone you were seeing someone. So this is him."

"Jæja, it is," Sören said, nodding.

"Well then." Dagnýr also nodded. He looked at Dooku. "I know you'll be wanting to get a rental car and all of that, but we came to pick you up and take you anywhere you need to go. Are you hungry? Would you like to get some lunch? We have a reservation at Fishmarket."

Iceland was on a different time zone, of course, and they had been quite literally transported back in time to where it was still an hour to have a late lunch. Dooku and Sören looked at each other and nodded; they'd had breakfast in the morning but there was too much happening in the hours before their flight, and they could both use a little something.

Dagnýr and Matt walked Dooku and Sören to the car park, where they had a black SUV rental of their own waiting. The air was bitter cold - Dooku knew November in Iceland was much colder than November in the UK, but he'd never been to Iceland before and it was one thing to know logically it would be colder and another thing to experience it directly. Even with his scarf and gloves, Dooku shivered, watching his breath steam the air. The time it took to walk through the car park felt like a freezing eternity.

Matt got in the driver's seat, Dagnýr gestured for Dooku to take the front seat, and Dagnýr and Sören sat in back.

"So I think we'll get a rental car after we eat," Dooku said, "and then we have to figure out where we're staying."

"You guys didn't reserve a hotel room anywhere?" Dagnýr asked.

"No," Dooku said. "We decided to take care of all of that once we arrived in Reykjavik, since there was already so much rushing around..." Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"The good news is that because it's November, there's not as many tourists competing for hotel rooms," Dagnýr said. "The bad news is, I don't know what your budget looks like, and everything in the city tends to be a bit pricey."

"Cost isn't an issue," Dooku said. "I'm a barrister, back in London."

"Ah, I see." Dagnýr nodded. "I'm a physicist and I teach at a university in Toronto and I still said ouch at this trip."

Then something like a lightbulb went off in Dooku's head. He occasionally read scientific magazines and blogs, finding the subject interesting, and now he remembered seeing the name Dagnýr Sigurdsson before. "Quantum physics, yes?"

"Yes," Dagnýr said. "I see you've heard of me."

Sören chuckled. "My nerdy brother here is famous."

"Your partner is pretty nerdy if he recognized me," Dagnýr said.

"I enjoy reading and learning things," Dooku said.

Dooku could hear the smile in Sören's voice as he said, "Dagnýr got a doctorate when he was twenty. He's fucking brilliant."

"You're pretty smart too," Dagnýr said, "you went to med school and everything."

"Well," Sören said, "till I dropped out." He sighed. Then he laughed and said, "I was a star student but I still lived in your shadow. I still didn't graduate school as young as you did."

"Honestly," Dagnýr said, "I just wanted to get the fuck out of there."

The words hung there, too heavy for any lighthearted follow ups. What little Dooku knew of Sören's past, he knew it was unpleasant, and Sören's siblings and cousin had been through hell themselves. The four rode in awkward, uncomfortable silence for the next few minutes, and then a phone buzzed obnoxiously. Dooku looked over his shoulder and watched Dagnýr pull out a smartphone.

"Margrét! _Hvað segirðu?_ " A deep woman's voice, and Dagnýr waited through a flurry of Icelandic. " _Ég er með Matt og Sören og þessi strákur Sören er að deita... já, Sören hefur kærasta. Nógu gamall til að vera afi hans, en ef hann er ánægður þá er það sem skiptir máli._ " Laughter, and then more Icelandic chatter, and then Dagnýr said, " _Við erum á leiðinni til hádegis... Við ætlum að fara á Fiskmarkaðinum. Þú vilt hitta okkur þarna? Er Ari með þér?_ " Some " _já, já_ " on the other end, and Dagnýr continued, " _Gott, við munum sjá þig fljótlega!_ " The beep that signaled the end of the call, and Dagnýr announced, "Margrét and Ari will be joining us. I'll call now to update our table from two to four guests."

Dagnýr did that. The restaurant was busy, and they had to wait a few minutes when they arrived since the reservation had been updated; Sören took the opportunity to call Frankie, who wanted a report that Sören's flight had arrived safely, as soon as possible. Frankie and Sören chatted a bit, and finally Dooku heard Frankie say, "Oi, you better take good pics," and Sören joked, "Já, I'll send you some dick pics." "I'll cut it off," Frankie teased back. "You might have to get past my boyfriend," Sören said. "He might not like that -"

Dooku's face burned, as mental images played of the video he'd inadvertently come across on Sören's phone, remembering Sören's cock spurting in the video. Their eyes met, and suddenly across their Force bond, Dooku knew Sören caught a glimpse of that - so now he knew, and Dooku was going to have some explaining to do. He wished he could just melt into the floor.

Frankie made noises so loud all three could hear them, and some of the other people waiting for their tables, and then, a man and a woman approached; the man cleared his throat loudly.

"Gotta go," Sören said. "Will call you later."

"Love you, you cunt," Dooku heard Frankie say.

"Love you too, bitch," Sören said, before he hit the "End" button on his phone screen and ran over to the man and woman with the same enthusiasm that he'd shown running to his brother at the airport.

The man had shoulder-length wavy brown hair, a closely-trimmed brown beard, and piercing blue eyes; he was dressed in jeans and a light blue button-down shirt under a winter coat, looking neither overdressed nor as casual as Dagnýr. The man was roughly the same height as Sören, and somewhere between Dagnýr's boy-next-door look and Sören's dark smolder - ruggedly handsome, the closest of the three to the stereotypical "Viking" look.

The woman was just as tall as the men, with long curly dark hair to the middle of her back, and dark eyes like Sören's, and looked like a cross between Sören and Dagnýr. She was wearing a black dress underneath a black fur-trimmed winter coat, and a little glittery black fascinator on her head, heavily made-up in the gothic style; she had a pierced right eyebrow, a septum ring in her nose, and several pairs of earrings in her ears, including a triple helix piercing. She put Sören in a headlock and gave him a noogie and kissed his cheeks before doing the same thing to Dagnýr, and then she gave Matt a warm hug. She paused, not knowing what to make of Dooku.

Ari hugged Sören and Dagnýr, patted Matt on the shoulder, and shook Dooku's hand. "Welcome to Iceland," he said. His accent was less strong than Sören's, but more noticeable than Dagnýr, who barely had one.

"Ari, Margrét, this is my partner, Ion Nicolae Dooku. Nico, this is my cousin Ari and my sister Margrét."

Dooku took Margrét's hand and kissed it. "A pleasure, milady."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Margrét said, laughing. Her Icelandic accent was heavier than Sören's, and she had a very deep voice for a woman - like a contralto - and it was then that Dooku noticed Margrét had an Adam's apple. "You're family, you don't need to pull that 'milady' shit. Are they all like that in bloody England?"

"No," Sören said. "Nico's just old-fashioned."

"I guess so." Margrét smirked. "I'm a punk."

"Yeah," Matt said. "About that, I heard about the lawsu -"

Margrét waved her hand. "Let's not talk about that right here right now."

Dooku's curiosity was piqued, but he didn't want to pry, whatever it was, and it was time for them to be seated anyway. For a starting course Dooku went with puffin and for his main course he decided on grilled salmon; everyone at the table ordered some kind of fish for their main course except for Ari, who ordered lamb.

"This is Fishmarket," Dagnýr teased.

"I can do what I want," Ari said. "So nyah."

Dagnýr stuck out his tongue, and Ari stuck out his, and Margrét reached across the table and grabbed both their noses, making Sören laugh out loud. It was right on cue for the waitstaff to return to the table, trying to not betray amusement; Sören joked, "I don't think they're old enough. Can we have the kids' menu? Maybe some crayons?"

"Já, some crayons to stick up your butt," Margrét snarked.

"I don't think there'll be room up there," Dagnýr said, and it was clear he hadn't thought about it, and immediately shut his mouth and looked away from the waitstaff, turning red and shaking with silent laughter. The waiter, thankfully, also looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

After wine was poured, Dagnýr banged on his glass with a spoon. "I'd like to make a toast," he said. "This family reunion is under the worst circumstances... but I'm still glad to see you all again, and I hope we can get together in the future without it being an emergency."

" _Skál_ ," Ari said, and drank his wine. The rest of the table echoed, " _Skál_ " and drank.

The food was excellent, enough that Dooku was glad to just listen to most of the conversation, only speaking when asked a direct question, like Ari asking what Dooku did for a living. Ari himself ran a yoga studio in Reykjavik, and Margrét owned a bar. Margrét was also in a punk band that played at the bar on Friday nights, called Brjálaður Tíkur. "I'd invite you to come see a show," Margrét said, looking at Sören and Dooku, "but I doubt it would be your kind of music."

"Probably not," Dooku said, nodding. He resisted the urge to say _I doubt I would even call it music._

"We put on quite a performance, though," Margrét said.

"Are you still... burning up a cardboard cutout of Kylo Ren?" Sören asked.

Dooku's eyebrows went up at this, and he almost choked when Margrét nodded. Then Margrét noticed Dooku's reaction and said, "Ah, I see you haven't filled him in about the drama."

"There hasn't been a whole lot of time for that," Sören said.

Margrét raised an eyebrow - Dooku could sense in the Force that Margrét was putting two and two together that they hadn't been a couple terribly long - and then Margrét had some wine and said, "Well, to make a long story short, Kylo and I co-founded a band that later became the Knights of Ren. Then he kicked me out of the band after he found out I shagged his mum." Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "He made some transphobic remarks while he was at it." Her voice raised again to a normal volume. "That was hurtful in and of itself, but the thing I can't forgive him for is that he stole a bunch of my songs. I'm in the middle of a lawsuit with him because of it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dooku said.

"He's a fucking no-talent hack," Margrét said. "At least if he was gonna steal my songs, he could have done a better job with them. They sound bloody awful now. It's shameful to admit I even wrote these things, with what he's done to them."

"Though at least some of the stuff is his," Matt said, and snarked, "like the _wonderful_ 'Burn Hot Topic'."

Margrét snorted, and Matt raised his glass, before sipping more wine.

"Like I said," Margrét said, "he's a fucking no-talent hack. And that bloody idiot he replaced me with? Hux or whatever his fucking name is? The ginger who likes those military outfits? I could play guitar with my arse and still be better than him."

"I'd like to see that," Sören said, grinning. "You should enter Eurovision and do that."

"It'd be more entertaining than what we usually send," Ari chuckled.

Margrét rolled her eyes. "Fuck you guys," she said, but there was affection in her voice.

They ordered dessert after that. Dooku ordered a lemon tart, and Sören ordered a sorbet. Sören gave Dooku a small amount of his dessert to taste, and Dooku did the same for Sören, and Margrét and Ari chuckled at the couple spoon-feeding each other.

"You guys are cute," Margrét said. "It's disgusting."

Sören gave his sister the finger, and Margrét put up both middle fingers in response, then licked one and stuck it in Sören's ear.

"Heyyyy!" Sören whined.

Margrét laughed. "Look, it's the first time in years I've gotten to pick on you about having someone." She cocked her head to one side. "I assume since you came with Sören on such short notice he told you what's going on and that he trusts you enough to... be there... for all of this. And Sören hasn't brought anyone to meet us, in a long time. Not since Ale -" At Sören's wince, Margrét didn't finish the name, just cleared her throat and continued, "Which means things are pretty serious." She smiled at Sören. "It's about time you found someone, little brother."

"Says you, who's thirty-five and still mostly single," Sören said.

"Ugh, don't get me started on that," Margrét said, rolling her eyes. "We've been over why it's hard, for... uh." She didn't finish that sentence.

"You sell yourself short," Sören said. "There's a lot of people who don't care about, uh, that."

"Já, a lot of the people who don't mind are into... it as a fetish? Which is its own set of problems," Margrét said. She frowned into her wine. "I'm a bloody person, not a... you know, never mind."

Sören patted his sister's hand. "Come visit me in London, the dating scene is much bigger there. Not that I'd had the greatest success myself..." Sören looked at Dooku and smiled. "We kind of met by accident."

"Oh really," Margrét said.

Sören nodded. "I wasn't looking for anyone, but he just... fell into my life." Sören's smile became that radiant grin Dooku loved. "The greatest gifts in life are the ones not asked for, the ones found unexpected."

"I'm glad you're happy," Margrét said. She brandished her knife, waving it in Dooku's general direction. "You better be good to my brother or I'll go Viking on your arse."

"Oh, please." Ari snorted.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot Sensitive New Age Guy was in the house," Margrét teased. "Let me have some more wine so I can... realign... my chi... or something."

Ari laughed out loud now, and clinked glasses with his cousin, before he and Margrét drank together.

The check came; Dooku paid for both himself and Sören. They walked out slowly to their respective vehicles. It was just starting to snow.

Margrét gave Sören a long, tight hug. "How long will you be here?" she asked after they pulled apart.

"I don't know," Sören said. "I had to take time off work, and Nico had to take time off work, but because we dropped everything to come on such short notice, I don't think we can stay super long. I'm guessing after she goes... here for the funeral, then maybe a week or so to decompress, before we go back."

Margrét nodded. "Call me after... all of that, so we can get together at least one more time before you go back to the UK."

Sören nodded. "So you're really not coming for..."

Margrét shook her head. "We've been over this. That bridge was burnt a long time ago."

"I understand," Sören said. "To be honest, I'm questioning why I'm doing any of this myself, and I haven't even experienced half of what -"

Margrét waved her hand, and just nodded, before hugging Sören again. "I still don't envy you," she said softly, before giving Sören a squeeze. After they pulled apart, Margrét said, "If you need anything, call me, any time, I don't care what hour it is. And we'll make plans for at least one more visit before you go."

She blew her brother kisses, waved at Dooku, and then climbed into her blue car. Ari had a silver jeep, parked a few stalls from Dagnýr's SUV. He leaned against the jeep, with his arms folded. "Where are you headed now?" he asked Sören and Dooku.

"Rental car, and then checking in to a hotel most likely," Dooku said.

"If you don't want to deal with all that stress tonight," Ari said, "my couch folds out into a bed and you're welcome to it. I've got a nice view of Reykjavik from my flat. I don't think my flat would be very comfortable for all three of us for longer than a night, but it wouldn't be a bother for the night, while you try to call around and get prices on rooms. There's guest parking where I live, where you can put your rental car."

Dooku and Sören looked at each other, and then Sören hesitantly nodded. "If you're OK with it, I'm fine with it," Sören said.

"All right," Dooku said, nodding.

 

_

Ari convinced Dooku to rent a jeep, "in case you want to do a bit of sightseeing." Dooku agreed, and Sören was enthusiastic about the prospect - even though this wasn't a pleasure trip by any means, there was still opportunity for such pleasant things.

Sören hadn't driven a vehicle in the last two years he'd lived in the UK, since he couldn't deal with driving on "the wrong side of the road", but insisted on driving the jeep here. He didn't seem any worse for not having driven in so long, if driving a bit slowly and cautiously. The black rental jeep followed Ari's silver jeep to the apartment complex where Ari lived, and then the three took an elevator up to Ari's flat.

Ari wasn't exaggerating when he said his flat wouldn't be comfortable for three people all week - it was a one-bedroom, and there was only an island separating the living room and kitchen. The foldout couch bed was just big enough to sleep two people. There was a large flat screen TV on the wall across from the couch, and Ari told Sören and Dooku they were welcome to watch anything they wanted.

Dooku didn't speak Icelandic beyond a few words, so he tried to unwind with a book, as Sören flipped through channels, watching for a few minutes before changing to something else. Dooku got the sense Sören wasn't really interested in television either, but Icelandic TV was something comforting and familiar and it was more of a re-immersion into what was "home" than anything else. After awhile Dooku turned on his laptop to research hotels, and began calling around, but even though Dooku would be paying, Sören was still uncomfortable with how much everything would cost and shook his head no at each option until Dooku sighed, turned off his laptop, and decided he'd try other options tomorrow.

Ari's bathroom was tiny, and Dooku and Sören took turns in the shower, with Dooku waiting in the living room as Sören finished showering first. When Dooku stepped into the shower the water was almost unbearably hot, and it smelled of sulfur. He didn't take long; he disliked putting on pajamas in the steamy bathroom but it was for modesty's sake since he was a guest. As he changed, he heard Sören speaking English in the living room - he correctly assumed Sören was talking to Frankie, strolling back into the living room at the very end of Sören's conversation to hear her loud, raucous laugh, and him address her by name.

After Sören got off the phone with Frankie, Dooku decided to call Qui. Qui-Gon immediately got on his case for not calling sooner, and Dooku explained that this was his first real down time since they'd arrived.

"So the flight went well, obviously," Qui said.

"Obviously," Dooku said.

Dooku could hear the smirk in Qui's voice. "Did you guys join the Mile High Club?"

"What."

Qui-Gon snickered. "I guess not."

Dooku made a mental note to ask Sören if he knew what that meant, on the trip back.

Qui put the phone to Dragos so Dooku could talk to him; Dooku was comforted by Dragos meowing in response, and then purring. "He headbutted the phone," Qui informed him. Dooku smiled, and his smile grew bigger as Qui told Dooku that Dragos was at first wary and hostile of the cats, but with some Force persuasion Dragos was now cuddling with them, and he had pictures of the cat cuddle pile that he'd e-mail. Dooku was still smiling when he got off the phone, and Sören returned his smile and reached out to stroke Dooku's face before kissing the tip of his nose.

"You know what?" Sören said. "You're adorable."

"I am not adorable."

"Yes, you are."

Dooku gave Sören a stern look, and Sören laughed. "You're even cute when you make that face," Sören said.

"I am not cute."

"Give me your laptop for a minute," Sören said.

"Why?"

"Just give me it."

Dooku handed it to Sören, and waited while Sören looked something up, and then Sören handed it back to him. There was a picture of a tiny bat, being poked by a human index finger, captioned "No! Stop touching me! I AM THE NIGHT!"

"This is you," Sören said.

"You know..."

"Yes, I know." Sören kissed his nose again.

Dooku and Sören had a long day, and they were both ready for bed at eight PM local time. Ari was a night owl, but promised to keep it down. Nonetheless, once Dooku and Sören were under the covers, they heard Ari take a phone call in his room. It became obvious a few minutes into the conversation that Ari was talking to Dagnýr.

Ari had a Norwegian Forest Cat who finally showed himself, hopping up on the couch bed, and Dooku and Sören stroked the cat together as Sören eavesdropped. About twenty minutes after the call started, it was over, and after a couple minutes of silence, Ari walked out to the kitchen to get some juice, and offered juice to his guests, who declined.

"I know you're not asleep yet," Ari said, "and you probably should know this to inform whatever plans you have for tomorrow. My mother is deteriorating. I'd go see her now, but the hospital doesn't really want visitors at this hour, so I'm going as soon as the hospital opens for visitors tomorrow. Hopefully she won't die tonight."

Sören nodded. "All right. We'll go with you."

"Dagnýr is coming with us, too," Ari said. "And obviously, Margrét is not."

"Nope."

Ari sighed. He rubbed his face, then rinsed out his glass. "If you guys get hungry in the middle of the night there's some stuff in the fridge, help yourself."

"Thank you," Dooku said.

"Do you need extra blankets?" Ari raised an eyebrow.

"I should be all right," Dooku said. "The heat is on, and Sören himself is nice and toasty."

Sören giggled at this, Ari rolled his eyes but smiled, and then Ari snickered, "I don't want to hear you guys, if you get my drift."

Sören made a fake moan - but still, Dooku's cock would have stirred if he wasn't so tired. Ari didn't have to worry, however; Sören and Dooku were both exhausted, and Dooku worried that they'd break the couch bed if they tried anything anyway.

Ari turned off the lights, and the cat settled on the foot of their bed, purring contentedly. After a few minutes of laying there side by side, Dooku pulled Sören close to him, sensing Sören's sudden distress in the Force, knowing Sören was thinking about his aunt.

"I'm here," Dooku whispered.

Sören squeezed him, and then took his hands. "Thank you for... all of this," Sören whispered back.

"Thank you for letting me into your life," Dooku said. He stroked Sören's face, and then kissed his forehead, and then the tip of his nose. "Sleep, love."

"I'll try."

Dooku waved his hand over Sören's face, pushing with the Force. "Sleep."

A moment later, Sören went limp, like he'd been knocked out. A few minutes after that, Dooku followed him.


	11. Chapter 11

" _Við erum hérna til að sjá Katrín Tollasdóttir._ "

The clerk looked at Ari, then at Dagnýr, Matt, Sören and Dooku. " _Það eru fimm af þér?_ "

" _Já._ "

The clerk shook her head with a small, apologetic frown. " _Við leyfum hámark fjórum í einu. Einn af ykkur verður að bíða._ "

Ari sighed, nodded, and then looked at the others. "Only four of us can go in, one of us has to wait here."

Matt raised his hand. "I'll hang back, get some coffee."

Dagnýr patted Matt on the shoulder. "Thanks. Get me one too? I don't think I'll be in there super long."

Matt nodded. "OK." He gave Dagnýr a quick kiss on the cheek, and then they squeezed each other's hands, fingers brushing and lingering for a moment before Matt walked off in the direction of the hospital cafe.

The clerk then said, " _Hún er í herbergi Þrír Núll Einn C._ "

" _Takk._ " Ari gave a polite wave, and then said, "Third floor." Ari, Dagnýr, Sören and Dooku made their way down the hall to the elevator, and once they got in and the doors closed behind them, Dooku noticed Sören shifted his weight uncomfortably. Dooku reached for his hand.

 _I'm here,_ Dooku told Sören, directly into his mind, through the Force.

 _I get a little claustrophobic in elevators._ Sören swallowed hard.

Dooku squeezed Sören's hand. _We're almost there._

And then, the doors opened. The four men walked out; 301C was a bit of a walk, but it still didn't take long. Ari gave a nervous glance over his shoulder, and then he cleared his throat.

" _Katrín, þú hefur gesti,_ " a nurse said, and then gestured for Ari to come in.

A seemingly middle-aged woman with short auburn hair and dark eyes, wearing hospital greens, sat up in her bed and smiled. "Ari," she said.

" _Halló móðir. Við höfum ensku hátalara með okkur svo ég biðja um að við tölum ensku svo að hann geti skilið allt._ "

Katrín raised an eyebrow, but then she nodded. "All right," she said, in heavily accented English.

"Hi, Aunt Kat," Dagnýr said.

And then it was Sören's turn. "Hello, Aunt Katrín."

Katrín's smile grew bigger. "Sören. Goodness. I haven't seen you in years."

Sören gave a nervous laugh. "Jæja. Dagnýr called me and told me... what was happening... and I took the first flight I could."

"Really? I'm touched, Sören. God bless you, that was good of you." Katrín gestured. "Come here."

Sören hesitantly stepped forward, and then walked slowly to the bed. Katrín put out her arms - Dooku noticed that Sören flinched as soon as her hands came near - but Sören gingerly bent and put his arms around the frail old woman. When they embraced, Katrín began coughing, and Sören quickly let go. The attending nurse rushed over, and Dooku watched as Katrín spat blood into a bedpan.

"Oh, no," Sören said, with a frown.

"Jæja, it's been like that," Katrín said. "It was alarming the first few times it happened but now... it just reminds me of the blood of Christ, that paid for my ticket home, where I'll be going soon to be with him."

Dagnýr looked over his shoulder at Dooku and rolled his eyes. Dooku smirked.

After some more coughing, and a sip of water, Katrín said, "So who is here that I have to speak English for?"

"Me," Dooku said, from towards the back of the room, near the door.

"And you are...?"

Sören cleared his throat. "That is my partner, Nico."

"Your... partner." Katrín gave Sören a disapproving glance.

"Já. My partner. As in, I am in a homosexual relationship with that man back there."

Katrín made a little hissing noise, and Sören's nostrils flared. Dooku braced himself.

"You know, Sören, when I'd asked to see you one last time," Katrín said, "I hoped that maybe you'd outgrown that, that it was just a phase, just like I'd hoped that silly painting of yours was just a phase and you'd go back to medical school. But on the chance that you were still involved in this... gay lifestyle of yours... I wanted you to see me like this. Close to death. So you would know that you, too, are not immortal - someday God may stop being merciful and may show his judgment, with AIDS -"

" _Vaddírassgat_!" Sören swore. " _Ég ferðaði ekki alla þessa fjarlægð frá London til að heyra þetta kjaftæði_."

"Now, now, Sören, aren't we supposed to be speaking English to be polite to your homosexual lover?" Katrín snorted. "Boyfriend? Isn't he a bit old for you?"

"I can't fucking believe you," Sören said.

"Don't swear at me," Katrín said. "Show some respect, especially when I'm dying over here."

"So you can shit all over me but I have to show _you_ respect? I didn't come all this way for you to shove your fake, bullshit, garbage religion down my throat. I thought, years ago, when you apologized to me for how you were, that you meant it. But now you just disguise your abuse with religion -"

"This isn't abuse," Katrín said. "I wanted to show you what death looks like so you could think about your life and your choices and see the error of your ways and _repent_ before it's too late so you don't burn in hell for all eternity. That isn't hatred, it's love."

"Aunt Kat," Dagnýr said, "I also came a long way, from Canada, with my boyfriend, who's in the cafe right now getting me some coffee. If you don't have anything nice to say, then I don't have anything to say to you and I'm going to get that coffee."

"You talk about abuse, and me not being nice... but you come here to flaunt your homosexual lifestyles and mock me..." Katrín shook her head. "I take it Magnús didn't come with you."

Sören actually _growled_ at that.

Katrín let out a small, resigned sigh and sipped her water. "I'm not surprised. He hasn't spoken to me in years -"

" _Margrét_ didn't come because you won't even show the common courtesy of using _her_ proper name and _pronouns_ ," Sören snarled.

Katrín pinched the bridge of her nose, but continued to sip her water.

"You tell us you're sorry for the abuse, years ago, and you give us a song and dance about how you've changed and you're trying to be a better person, but here we are, we flew out here to be here for you, and _you haven't changed at all._ " Sören's anger was visible now; Dooku could feel it crackling like electricity, and Dooku himself was angry and fighting the urge to say something himself.

"I have changed," Katrín said, but there was ice in her voice, the counterpoint to Sören's fire. "As I said. I tell you these things out of love, not hate. If I didn't care I would be fine with you burning in hell for all eternity, but I am not. And the Lord has given me so much peace in my life... and in my death. But you, Sören? You still seem so terribly unhappy." She reached out for Sören again, who flinched and backed away. "If you only accepted Christ -"

"Unlike you," Sören said, "I live in the real world, and can't just... magic away my problems."

"It seems," Dooku said, rather loudly, "that perhaps the reason why Sören might seem unhappy is because you have caused a tremendous deal of unhappiness in his life, and indeed, are causing it right now. He came all this way hoping that maybe you could put aside your differences to say goodbye, and have some sort of closure. A pity, that."

Katrín's eyes flashed, and her jaw set. She sat up in her bed, squaring her shoulders. "You don't know me," Katrín said.

"Believe me," Dooku said, "just in the course of a few minutes, I have seen all there is to know."

"Fine, then," Katrín said. She waved dismissively at Sören, who flinched again at her hand moving near him. "Go off to your homosexual lover, get AIDS, die and burn in hell." She glared at Dagnýr. "Both of you. Take Magnús with you." She glared back at Sören. "But someday, you'll see that I'm right -"

"You know what?" Sören snapped. "Even if you are right, which you're not? Any God that forgives someone like _you_ of all the shit you did to poor, innocent, defenseless children because you just said 'I'm sorry, God, please forgive me'" - Sören said this in a whiny, mocking voice - "and he rewards you with heaven, but condemns someone like me to hell because I can't help who I love... condemns someone like _my sister Margrét_ to hell because _she_ can't help who _she_ is, and _she_ lived in fucking torment until _she_ transitioned... fuck your God, fuck your heaven, I don't want to fucking go there and be surrounded by people like _you!_ "

Sören stormed past Ari and Dagnýr and Dooku, to head out the door, but paused at the door to look over his shoulder and yell, " _Riddu þér, helvítis hóra!_ "

Dooku was too stunned to move. Dagnýr nodded and said, "Yeah, I think I'll be leaving now."

"Mother," Ari said, "you were completely out of line."

"Oh, you're going to leave me too? My own son? You'd rather side with these homosexuals than the woman who gave birth to you -"

"The woman who gave birth to me and physically and verbally abused me for years," Ari said, "and is showing no sign that you've changed at all. Versus my actual family."

"You're just going to leave me here to die alone?"

"No," Ari said. "You already made that choice for yourself."

Dagnýr put an arm around Ari and turned him around; Dooku led the forward march out of the hospital room. Sören was already gone off the floor; they boarded the elevator and caught Sören near the cafe; Sören's face was flushed and he was in tears, shaking and hyperventilating like he was having a panic attack. Dooku's first response was to draw Sören close to him.

"I'm so sorry, love," Dooku whispered.

"I should have fucking known better," Sören sobbed. "I shouldn't have come here -"

Ari put his hand on Sören's shoulder. "I'm glad you came, if only so I could see you again."

Sören and Ari hugged then, and Dagnýr hugged both of them; Dooku noticed Dagnýr was crying too, now.

Dooku ordered coffee for himself, and a hot chocolate with whipped cream for Sören. The five men sat down at a table in the corner, in stunned, grieving silence.

When Dooku was almost done with his coffee, he saw Katrín's nurse walk into the cafe, nervously, and then her eyes met Dagnýr's and she hurried over.

"I just wanted to tell you," the nurse said, "I'm sorry for what happened in there. I wanted to say something but -"

"You're at work," Dagnýr said, nodding. "We understand."

The nurse turned to Dooku. "We're not all like this."

"I know," Dooku said. "Your country had a gay Prime Minister, it's consistently one of the most progressive on LGBT rights issues. I didn't think this was a majority opinion."

The nurse smiled apologetically and then she said, "I hope you enjoy the rest of your visit to Iceland."

"We'll certainly try." Dooku gave a small, thin smile back, and the nurse scuttled off.

"I fucking hate myself right now," Sören said, after she was gone. "I jumped on the first plane out here... Nico paid for it... he took time off work... for _this._ "

"So... take a vacation?" Dagnýr shrugged. "And at least you got to see the rest of us again?"

Ari's phone went off then, he took the call, and managed a smile as he said, "Ah, Margrét." Margrét's voice on the other line, speaking fast Icelandic, and Ari nodded and after a minute he said, " _Já, við erum nú þegar búnir með heimsókninni_." Margrét again, and then Ari said, " _Nei, það tók ekki langan tíma._ " " _Frekar slæmt?_ " Dooku heard Margrét say. " _Verri en versta von mín_ ," Ari replied, with a sigh.

Margrét talked for a few more minutes, and then Ari said, " _Það hljómar eins og góð hugmynd. Ég skal láta þig vita hvernig það gengur._ "

Dooku heard Margrét say, " _Ég mun hitta þig þarna og sjá það sjálfur_ ," with a little chuckle.

" _Allt í lagi frábært! Sjáumst bráðlega._ " Ari pushed "End" on his conversation, and then said, "How do you guys feel about a little trip? Do you have anything else planned?"

Dagnýr shook his head. "I could use something to get my mind off everything that happened up there."

Sören nodded, and he looked at Dooku. "If you're OK with it -"

"Yes," Dooku said. "I'd rather not waste this trip."

Ari chuckled. "Margrét wants to take us on a field trip."

"Oh no," Sören said. His face lit up, and he turned to Dooku with a smirk. "You think you can handle this amount of fun?"

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Dooku said, laughing.

_

The Icelandic Phallological Museum, in Reykjavik, houses the world's largest display of penises and penile parts.

Dooku was walked into the museum blindfolded, as Sören wanted it to be a "surprise" - Sören seemed to know exactly what his sister had suggested, probably via their Force bond - and when the blindfold came off and Dooku was standing in front of penis specimens from different mammalian species, the look on Dooku's face made Sören start crying again... this time from wild, shrieking laughter that rang out through the museum.

Sören started taking pictures immediately.

Dooku couldn't even make words. He looked at the specimens of penises and penile parts, then at Sören, then at the specimens again, and at last, found his ability to make sound again.

That sound came out as a simple "Er."

Somehow, Dooku continued following Sören, Dagnýr, Matt, Ari, and Margrét through the museum, still not fully able to believe he was in a -

"Dick museum," Matt said. "There is actually a dick museum in Iceland. I knew you guys were weird, but not, like, _dick museum weird._ "

"A dick museum isn't weird," Margrét said. She gestured to the samples that were labeled as being from _huldufólk_. "A museum claiming it has samples of elf dick? Now that's weird."

"OK but," Dagnýr said, " _supposedly_ , there is a family legend that we're part-elf."

Sören snorted. "And I'm dating the Loch Ness monster." Sören pulled on the tips of his ears. "I don't know," he said, turning to Dooku. "What would you think of me with pointy ears?"

Dooku pictured Sören with pointy ears, and rather liked the mental image... which quickly turned into a mental image of him nibbling on the tip, licking it, as Sören moaned. Dooku didn't know where that came from, and then he realized Sören could see the mental movie as well; their eyes met and Sören blushed.

"Er," was all Dooku could say, again.

"Well," Dagnýr said, "every time I hear the stories about elves, and how some of them might have interbred with humans... hence the rumor that we're descended from elves..." _Considering we can do this,_ Dagnýr spoke into the others' minds, discretely levitating a pen just above his index finger before wrapping his fingers around it. "I think maybe we were visited by aliens."

"Aliens?"

"I'm not saying it was aliens, but it was aliens."

Margrét made the "ok" gesture with her hand, and they continued walking, then she gestured to the badly-preserved, unfortunate human penis on display. "And here's the dick of the last guy who called me a slur -"

"Really?" Dooku's eyebrows went up.

"No," Margrét chuckled. "I wish."

Sören laughed at this like it was the funniest thing ever, and took some pictures of Margrét next to the human penis, throwing the metal horns and making faces.

The group visited the gift shop on their way out; Sören bought two bags of penis-shaped pasta, a penis mug, T-shirts in his and Frankie's sizes, and a "Willy warmer" that was a striped snake.

"Please tell me you don't intend on actually wearing that," Dooku said.

Sören just smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "Meh heh."

After the museum, Sören and Dooku rode in the direction of a hotel, where Sören had finally conceded to getting a room. A few blocks from the hotel, Sören pulled over.

"What are you doing?" Dooku asked.

"Getting a _pylsa._ " Sören pointed at a hot dog cart.

Dooku got out of the jeep too. "Odd that you'd be in the mood for that after..."

Sören laughed. "I _was_ almost a doctor. I've seen far worse, Nico."

Dooku shuddered.

Sören approached the cart. " _Ein með öllu,_ " he told the vendor, pulling out krónur. A moment later he had a hot dog in his hand. The bun was steamed, and the dog was topped with raw white onions and crispy fried onions, ketchup, sweet brown mustard, and remoulade, a sauce made with mayo, capers, and mustard.

Dooku had never eaten a hot dog, and after the museum he wasn't exactly in the mood for it, but he enjoyed watching Sören eat - Sören was clearly savoring it, and Dooku could feel the nostalgia through their Force bond. When Sören was finished he said, simply, "I haven't had a real _pylsa_ since I left. They just don't make them the same way in England."

Sören and Dooku got back in the jeep, and Sören said, "It's a bit of a comfort food for me."

"Ah."

"When I was a kid." Sören looked down. "Katrín... wasn't horrible all the time. She was horrible a lot of the time, but once in awhile she'd do nice things like take us out for _pylsur_ and ice cream. So when I eat a _pylsa_ there's sort of that feeling of being a kid again."

"I'm very sorry for... what you went through," Dooku said with a sigh. "I can only imagine."

Sören nodded. "Já, I don't want to talk about it right now."

They checked into their hotel room - one bed. Dooku could feel Sören internally marveling at how "posh" it all was, even though it was far from the most expensive room Dooku could have gotten for his money. Sören called Frankie's aunt - his boss - and Dooku gave him some privacy. When Sören got off the phone he told Dooku, "I still have a job."

"That's good."

"I was a little worried." Sören sighed. "I can take a couple weeks here, if I need or want to, and still have a job to come back to. Now to call Frankie and tell her."

Sören was on the phone with Frankie for a good long time - Sören expressed some of his outrage over Katrín's homophobia and transphobia - but Dooku could feel in the Force that Sören didn't want to work himself up too much, so eventually the conversation topic changed to "the dick museum". Dooku had learned that Sören enjoyed making other people laugh, especially Frankie, whose laughter he could hear even when he was in the bathroom.

At last Sören was off the phone, and he said, "I need a nap."

Sören napped while Dooku read; Dooku woke Sören up when it was around time for them to think about dinner plans. "I don't want anything too fancy," Sören said. "I'm pretty beat."

They opted to eat in the dining room of the hotel. The hotel restaurant was still well-reviewed, and pricey, but it didn't involve traveling far, and they could get a table in relative privacy. Dooku enjoyed fish, and Sören had lamb. They shared a rich cheesecake together, and Dooku tipped well on their way out.

As they headed back to their room, Sören's phone rang. Sören answered it without looking at who was calling. "Frankie, what's - oh. _Hvað segirðu?_ "

Dooku recognized Dagnýr's voice on the other end. Dagnýr sounded upset, and Sören stopped walking; soon Sören looked upset as well.

" _Ég skil,_ " Sören said.

" _Ég geri ráð fyrir að þú munt ekki koma aftur á sjúkrahúsið_ ," Dooku heard Dagnýr say.

" _Ekki ef þú borgaðir mér,_ " Sören said, shaking his head. " _Skít fyrir Ari þó. Við verðum að vera þarna fyrir hann eftir að það gerist._ "

" _Við munum,_ " Dagnýr replied. " _Sennilega ekki safnið._ "

Sören managed a small chuckle and said, " _Við munum hugsa um eitthvað._ "

" _Góða nótt, Sören._ "

" _Góða nótt. Elska þig._ "

" _Elska þig líka._ "

Sören pressed "end" and sighed.

Dooku gave Sören a quizzical look, and Sören took his hand and kept walking. Once they got in their room, Sören said, "Katrín entered a coma. It was also her wish to not be kept on life support when that happened..."

"...so it looks like any time now," Dooku said.

"Yes," Sören said.

"Good riddance," Dooku said under his breath.

Sören heard him, smirked, and then frowned. "Ari... went back to the hospital and is at her bedside. He's pretty pissed off at her -"

"- and rightly so -"

"- but that's still his mother and... I get it." Sören nodded. "I know why he has to be there. The chances are good that she'll pass tomorrow and once that happens, we want to take Ari out... few drinks, probably."

"How long after..." Dooku cleared his throat awkwardly. "Does the funeral take place, here?"

"Usually five days to two weeks after, but in this case it'll be sooner, five days," Sören said.

"We don't have to go to the funeral if you don't want -"

"I wouldn't be going for her," Sören said. "I'd be going for Ari."

Sören showered first, and came out in a towel - though he looked delicious, he also looked exhausted, and Dooku didn't want to impose, especially for what would be their first time. Dooku did finally notice, as Sören turned his back to him, that Sören's back was tattooed - the fire on one arm and water on the other led to a pair of phoenixes on his back, one made of fire, the other made of water.

"Did you design that?" Dooku asked.

"Design what," Sören said, his voice sounding flat and far away.

"The... work on your back."

"I did. I didn't tattoo myself, obviously, but I drew it, showed the artist what I wanted, and he copied the design."

"It's... nice." Dooku never thought he'd be saying that about tattoos, but on Sören, it was nice.

It was Dooku's turn to shower - and he felt like he needed it, having been in the same space as Katrín that day. He too came out in a towel, but Sören was already asleep. Dooku quietly changed into his pajamas, climbed next to Sören, and spooned him, his arms wrapped around Sören, holding him safe.

It took a long while for Dooku to fall asleep. His heart ached for Sören, and Sören's siblings and cousin - he admired the young man who could make such beautiful art after having lived through such spectacular ugliness. Sören was physically pleasing to look at, but even more than that, Dooku admired Sören's heart - the way he tried to keep his family together, the way he soothed Frankie who got anxious being alone at night, even when he was exhausted and feeling close to the breaking point emotionally. That Sören thought this hotel room was "posh" when it wasn't even the classiest hotel room Dooku had been in - Sören had known privation, and Dooku wanted to spoil him. He wanted to make this trip count, somehow, to give back a little life to the man who'd breathed life into him.

Dooku's memories took him to when he was a young boy, attending the Romanian Orthodox Church, entranced by the rituals and the chanting and the mystery of it all, praying fervently, trying to understand the Force as a gift from God rather than something of the devil. And then, later, as a young man, in that same church, the mystery gone as he had seen the injustice of the world, and thought if there was a God who let these things happen, he was cruel and it was the moral obligation of humanity to forget him.

Master Yodha had once said that humanity had been visited by aliens many times over, that they as powerful, technologically advanced, Force-sensitive beings had decided to prey upon humans, presenting themselves as gods, and fed off the energy of the prayers and offerings given to them. For years Dooku's internal jury had been out on how much of that was true - he simply liked to think that there was no higher power, and the Force existed independently of such things, something that could eventually be explained by science when humanity had the right technology to figure it out. But in the eyes of Katrín Tollasdóttir, he saw something that made him wonder if Master Yodha had been right about that after all, and if Earth was in the grip of something terrible.

Dooku didn't want to think about that for long. He shuddered.

Sören felt it, and made a noise.

"It's all right," Dooku assured him.

Sören made another noise. "Nico," he mumbled. "You feel nice."

"You feel good too," Dooku said, his arms tightening around Sören. He buried his nose in Sören's curls, nuzzled them, planted a kiss atop Sören's head.

" _Ég elska þig, elskan mín._ "

Dooku didn't speak Icelandic, but nonetheless, he knew exactly what Sören had just said. _I love you._ He swallowed hard, tears burning his eyes as his heart soared. He wanted to say it back, in response, but words failed him, and he heard himself saying only, "I know."

Sören gave a little chuckle, patted Dooku's hand, and then fell back asleep. A few minutes later, Dooku's face rested in the crook of Sören's shoulder, and breathing in his scent, feeling Sören's pulse, he fell asleep also.


	12. Chapter 12

Dooku was awakened by "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin - Sören's ringtone for his brother Dagnýr. Dooku squinted through bleary eyes to watch Sören fumble around on the bedtable for the phone, finally using the Force to bring it over and answer it.

Dooku was already starting to fade again, put into a trance-like state by the Icelandic words, and was brought back to semi-consciousness by the feel of Sören leaning into him, the feel of Sören exhaling, deeply.

Dooku opened his eyes, and Sören looked up at him, his own eyes too bright.

"She's gone," Sören said, simply.

It was seven-thirty in the morning - past both of their usual wake-up times, but they'd allowed themselves to sleep in.

"When did it happen?" Dooku asked. "Do you know?"

Sören nodded. "About forty-five minutes ago. Dagnýr just got done talking to Ari." Sören smirked. "At least he had the courtesy to call me on his cell this time and not Matt's, that tripped me up yesterday."

Dooku nodded. He sat up, groggily. But Sören just lay there, looking a bit dazed, so after a moment Dooku propped Sören up, and then pulled Sören close, into his chest.

"How do you feel?" Dooku asked.

Sören gave a nervous laugh that was almost a sob. "Too many things," Sören said.

Dooku's arms tightened around Sören, and after a few minutes of petting and rocking him, Sören finally let go and cried.

Dooku held Sören for almost a half-hour, letting him cry it out. At last the tears subsided - for now - and Sören pulled away, slowly, but reached out to touch Dooku's face.

"Thank you," Sören said.

Dooku took Sören's hand and pressed it to his lips. "I am here for you."

Sören nodded. "I know." He looked at the clock and then he groaned. "So... Ari wants some alone time for the next few hours, which I can't blame him for, but Dagnýr and Margrét are insisting that later, he come to dinner with us, and then, we're all going to go drinking at Margrét's bar. You're invited."

"Oh dear."

Sören chuckled. "It can't be worse than the penis museum."

"Er."

"But anyway..." Sören climbed out of bed, yawned and stretched. "I'm not feeling the greatest myself, but staying here moping all day isn't going to do me any good, so how about I take you on a little tour?"

Dooku nodded. "I'd like that."

"Good."

They had breakfast together, and then their first stop was Hallgrímskirkja church, towering over the city at 74.5m tall. There was a viewing platform with the best view of Reykjavik that one could get in the entire city, open for a small fee because no services were being conducted then. Sören and Dooku went into the tower and all the way to the top, and spent awhile admiring the view.

At last Dooku said, "It's ironic that you've taken me to a church, considering what happened yesterday."

Sören nodded. "It is. But this is a famous spot in Reykjavik. And it's just a building. A very beautiful building."

"That it is. Just the glass art is outstanding."

"I'll show you the organ on our way out," Sören said.

Dooku raised his eyebrows. After yesterday, with so many penis jokes... "...organ?"

" _Actual_ organ, you old pervert," Sören said, elbowing Dooku in the ribs with a chuckle.

One of the church staff was nearby and gave them a somewhat scandalized look, and this made Sören laugh out loud. It was good to hear him laugh, and that laughter was infectious, making Dooku laugh as well.

On the way out they did in fact see the organ, which was the largest concert organ in Iceland. Sören took another walk to look at the glass art, taking pictures, and they also lingered at the entrance door so Sören could admire it from an artist's perspective, and take some pictures of that, as well.

And then Sören said, "Can we sit outside for awhile? A few meters away from the church? I'd like to do a rough sketch."

It was a cold November day, but Dooku obliged, and watched as Sören sketched the church - for a rough sketch it was still well-detailed. Dooku wondered if Sören was sketching it for the sake of sketching - to take his mind off things - or if he had a project going, or if perhaps sketching for its own sake would lead to a new project.

At last Sören said, "It's cold, let's get a move on."

They decided to explore the city center by foot, wandering through shopping streets and residential neighborhoods. The houses were colorful; Sören took pictures. "This reminds me of where I grew up in Akureyri," Sören said.

"Ah?"

Sören nodded. He looked sad, then, and Dooku stopped, moved in front of Sören, and put his hand on Sören's shoulders. Then, on impulse, Dooku put his arms around Sören. Sören returned the hug, and they held each other tight for a minute. When Sören pulled back, they gave each other a long, meaningful look, and Dooku found himself moving his face forward. Sören also moved in, and they kissed for the first time in days. It occurred to Dooku, a moment into the kiss, that they were kissing in public where anyone could see them, and yes it was Reykjavik and people didn't care about such things, but it was still so unlike him anyway. And he decided he didn't care, deepening the kiss, making Sören moan, groaning in response.

They pulled apart, breathless, and Sören stroked Dooku's face and whiskers, then leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose.

"Thank you," Sören said.

Dooku stroked Sören's face in return. "Last night," Dooku said.

"What about it?"

"You were already sort of asleep when I was done showering..."

"Oh, já, I'm sorry about that, I was exhausted -"

"No need to apologize." Dooku's gloved finger touched Sören's lips. Dooku went on, "You said something to me in Icelandic."

Sören smiled. "I vaguely remember that."

Dooku nodded.

"Well..." Sören said, "now to say it in English." He leaned in and whispered, "I love you," and then kissed Dooku again.

The play of their lips and tongues made Dooku's cock stir, and he made himself pull away before he got the urge to take Sören right there in the snow. Feeling flushed and fluttery, his head spinning, Dooku heard himself repeat what he heard Sören say last night. " _Ég elska þig, elskan mín._ "

Sören's laughter rang out through the street. "Nico, I love you... but your accent is atrocious."

Dooku also laughed. "I know."

Sören took Dooku's hands in his, and patted them. "You get points for trying."

"What kind of points?"

"...Points." Sören winked, and then pulled Dooku along.

They walked to the city pond, Reykjavíkurtjörn, which was right across from City Hall. Even though it was winter and a weekday afternoon, there were still a decent number of people there, some of whom were ice skating on the frozen pond. Sören took pictures again, and then they sat as Sören did a little sketching, and then Sören stopped, watching some small children play with their parents. He looked sad, on the verge of tears. Dooku reached out to take Sören's hand, and squeezed.

"It's all right, love," Dooku said.

Sören sighed, looked down, closed his eyes, shed a few tears, and then, at last, he looked up and said, "I have an idea."

"Yes?"

"I want to build a snowman."

"Oh."

Sören gave Dooku a quizzical look, raising his eyebrows. "You've... never... built a snowman, have you."

"No, I have not."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Come on."

Somehow, Dooku wound up on his knees next to Sören, in the snow, rolling snowballs, packing snow together. There wasn't enough snow on the ground yet to make a large snowman, and Sören being artistic decided to make it aesthetic anyway - Dooku was amused by Sören making a snow puffin instead of a snowman, and some children and their parents gathered around, delighted. Soon Dooku found himself copying what Sören was doing, making a mate for the snow puffin. People snapped photos, and Sören took pictures of his own, including a few selfies - a couple of which also had Dooku in them, smiling awkwardly.

Sören showed Dooku.

"Those are terrible," Dooku said, blushing.

"We look like dorks." Sören grinned. "Probably because we are."

"I beg your pardon." And then Dooku surprised himself with what came out next - playing in the snow seemed to put him in a younger frame of mind. "Speak for yourself, my dear."

"Oh, is that how it is."

"Yes." Dooku got up, brushing off the snow.

The minute his back was turned, a snowball hit him in the small of his back - Sören's response. Dooku whirled around, and Sören gave a guilty grin before throwing a snowball at Dooku's chest.

"You are a brat," Dooku said.

"News at eleven."

Dooku internally cursed that he couldn't make a public display of the Force, and dropped back down to his knees to scoop up snow, pack it together, and throw a snowball at Sören, who ducked. Sören sat up again to laugh, and the moment he did, he got a mouthful of snowball.

"Oh no." Dooku's concern was genuine. "Are you all right?"

Sören spat, and wiped snow off his face. He was laughing so hard he was shaking, and he threw another snowball at Dooku, who ducked. "I would have preferred a flavored snowcone."

Dooku took Sören's hand and pulled him up, and Dooku kissed him again. Then they walked together - Sören was marching him in the direction of a _pylsa_ stand.

There were a couple of kids in front of them, freshly out of school for the day. They waited their turn as the boys ordered " _ein með öllu_ ", but when it came time to pay, they were a krónur short, and the owner of the hot dog cart shook his head.

Dooku reached for his pocket, but before he could intercede, Sören stepped forward and said, " _Einn fyrir mig líka, og þetta ætti að gæta þessara stráka líka._ " He used his own krónur, and when he got change, he gave bills to each of the boys, who thanked him profusely. Sören affectionately tousled their hair and watched them run off to eat their _pylsur_. Dooku's heart was warmed by the gesture, and it made him love Sören even more.

Sören's own _pylsa_ was ready a couple of minutes later. Before Sören took a bite, he said to Dooku, "You sure you don't want one?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Sören shook his head. "You don't know what you're missing."

It didn't take long for Sören to finish the hot dog, wipe his beard, and then they were off, heading back the way they came, to where the jeep was parked. Though the exertion of walking around Reykjavik kept them warm enough, Dooku was still grateful for the heating in the jeep, and grateful further for Sören's suggestion that they get coffee before they head back to the hotel and get ready for their dinner with Sören's family.

 

_

 

The sun set early and it was already dark when they met Margrét, Dagnýr, Matt, and Ari at the restaurant where Margrét had made reservations. The restaurant was in Grandi, Reykjavik's "fish packing district", where old fishing factories and boat repair shops had been turned into more trendy establishments. Dooku went with fish - the seafood in Iceland lived up to its reputation - though Margrét encouraged Dooku to have something heavier "because we'll be doing a lot of drinking."

"Someone has to stay sober to be designated driver," Dooku said.

"Same," Matt said, knocking back coffee.

"Foreigners," Dagnýr snarked. "You don't know the real Iceland until you wake up with a hangover so splitting you think it ripped a hole in the space-time continuum."

Sören almost choked on his soda. "You are such a nerd."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks back in Toronto." Dagnýr sighed. "Speaking of which... day after the funeral, we're going back. I have classes to teach, students to annoy."

Ari patted Dagnýr's shoulder. "I appreciate that you're even staying this long."

Dagnýr nodded. "We don't see each other often enough, and I'd like to change that."

"Same here," Sören said. "I've missed all of you a lot."

"What do you all think about a return trip next month for Christmas?" Margrét asked.

"I think that two visits to Iceland within less than two months of each other wouldn't really be doable," Dagnýr said, "and also, I think I'd get so nostalgic that I wouldn't be able to leave."

"Maybe you all could come to Toronto?" Matt asked.

Dooku considered that, and then thought of seeing Qui and Obi for the holidays, the first time he'd see Qui for Christmas in years - disappointing them by being all the way in Canada. He frowned, and then he said, "Why don't you all come to London next month and have Christmas with us?"

"Really?" Margrét's face lit up. "You don't mind?"

"No," Dooku said.

The look of joy on Sören's face made Dooku's heart race and stomach flutter, made him warm and glowy. Sören squeezed his knee under the table, and then he threw his arms around Dooku and gave him a big sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Awww, Nico," Sören said. "That makes me so happy."

"If you don't mind meeting a few friends of the family," Dooku said.

"You'll be inviting Leja, yes?" Margrét asked.

Dooku nodded.

"Yes, good," Margrét said.

"Leja... my other adopted child, Qui and his partner Oberon..."

"Frankie," Sören said.

"All right, Frankie can come too," Dooku said.

"You and Frankie would hit it off," Sören said to Margrét.

"What's this boy like?" Margrét asked.

"Frankie's a she," Sören said. "I've been rooming with her since not long after I moved to the UK. We met at a punk show, and she beat up that shitty ex I told you about."

"Oh, yes, I probably would get on with her," Margrét said.

"I'd like that," Dagnýr said, and Matt nodded. "I haven't been to London in ages. The last time I went there, actually, was to visit Stephen Hawking... I was the doctoral student of one of his doctoral students, who wanted me to meet him."

"Nerd," Sören teased.

Dagnýr stuck his tongue out at Sören, before drinking more water.

Then Margrét turned to Ari. "So, you gonna come with me?"

Ari nodded. "Just have to... get through the next while first."

"Awwww." Margrét leaned in and hugged Ari, who accepted the hug. "Well, tonight we're going to help you get your mind off things."

"I don't think that's completely possible," Ari said, "but it feels better than being alone, right now."

"How... was it... in the end?" Sören asked.

"She was completely comatose," Ari said. "No awareness of what was going on, no pain, as far as I could tell. Just... gave out." Ari pinched the bridge of his nose and winced as if he were in pain. "I thought about not going back, just letting her die there, alone, but... I couldn't. Even after all she put us through, I didn't feel right about doing that to my own mother. But I didn't feel entirely right staying there with her, either."

Sören nodded.

Ari closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "In the end, I realized why I did it. I needed to see that she was dead, that she was truly gone. That... she wouldn't be opening her eyes again, opening her mouth, that this was it, the end." A shuddery sigh. "That she no longer can do anything to me, or the rest of us."

Margrét and Dagnýr hugged Ari, and then Matt got up, and Sören did too, and the five of them group-hugged, while Dooku watched, feeling awkward about joining in.

Ari cried, and then started apologizing, and Dagnýr made soothing noises and Sören finally said, "That was why I came out here. Well, that... and to be here for you. Because I feel the same way. I'd hoped that maybe she'd changed, and we could make peace. But I also knew, from all those years with her and her shit, that she probably hadn't changed. And in that case, I needed to see her... dying. Weak. Powerless."

Ari's crying turned into sobbing, and Sören rocked his cousin, crying too. They were making a scene at the restaurant, and it wasn't long before they were asked to pay their check and leave. In the frigid November night air, Ari and Sören attempted to pull themselves together, shakily.

They weren't far from the bar Margrét owned, and their vehicles were safe, so they walked there. Dooku didn't much care for the night temperature, but the cold seemed to snap Sören out of it, for now, which was a weight off his own shoulders - his heart ached for his beloved.

Dooku felt wildly out of place in the bar - dressed in his usual cape, dressy trousers and tunic, under his winter coat - and being at least two or three times older than everyone else there, not to mention that he was keeping it light to be safe to drive home.

Sören had more than one shot of Brennivín - he got progressively more animated with each shot - and finally, after they'd been there a couple hours and The Smiths started playing, Sören climbed off his stool, staggered over and said, "Dance with me."

"What." Dooku looked from side to side. "I... don't dance."

"You do now." Sören pulled Dooku off his stool, dragged him into the crowd, and began dancing awkwardly.

Dooku felt completely ridiculous - he stood and watched Sören, until Sören put his hands on Dooku's hips and began walking him back and forth, and soon his hands were on Sören's hips and their hips were swaying together in time.

The Smiths was, strangely, followed up by Shakira - Sören pointed out a DJ and people were making requests. The song had to be "Hips Don't Lie", of course, and Sören worked his hips even more, until he and Dooku were grinding on each other in the middle of the dance floor, and Dooku felt embarrassed and electrified all at once.

At the end of the song, Sören kissed him - he tasted like licorice from the Brennivín. Dooku kissed Sören back, and then they heard one of the bar patrons snark, " _Fá herbergi þú krakkar._ "

" _Afsakið mig? Ætli ég færi á skoðun þinni?_ " Sören snapped.

" _Haltu kjafti typpatottari!_ " the man snapped back.

Sören rolled his eyes, and then "accidentally" bumped into him when the next song came on. " _Sleiktu píkuna á mömmu þinni_ ," Sören muttered.

The man's response was to sucker punch Sören, dropping him to his knees. Sören started to have an asthma attack. Dooku had to exercise every ounce of restraint he had to not Force choke the man, and instead, kicked the man in the shin, then grabbed him by the throat and shoved him into several other people, knocking them all over.

Another man came at Dooku then, and Dooku swung his fist. The original attacker came back over to Sören, intending to punch him again, and Sören got up and landed a mean right hook, making the man's nose bleed. When another attacker rushed at them, Sören dropped an elbow and then kicked the man on the way down, and Dooku landed a hit in the stomach before grabbing the man who hit him and throwing him in the direction of an empty table, knocking over chairs.

Margrét, Ari, Dagnýr and Matt had hurried over now, and Margrét began shoving Sören and Dooku towards the back entrance.

Once they were out in back of the bar, Sören coughed again, took a puff from his inhaler, and then let out a howl like a wolf.

"Go back to the hotel," Margrét said. "I'll deal with the mess in there."

"I'm sorry," Sören said, but the grin on his face said he wasn't, really.

Margrét shook her head, but she couldn't restrain a smile of her own. "Goddammit, Sören. Did you have to get so drunk?"

"Uhhh... let me get back to you on that."

Dagnýr was staggering, and Matt said, "Yeah, I think we're gonna go too, because Dagnýr just falls asleep after he's had a few."

"Huh?" Dagnýr raised an eyebrow, but he only had one eye open.

"Yup." Matt put an arm around Dagnýr. "You're drunk, dude."

"So much for helping Ari," Sören said.

"You helped plenty," Ari said, laughing. "That was entertaining."

Sören hugged Ari, and then he said, "You want to do the honors of giving the Iceland tour tomorrow?"

Ari nodded. "All right. One o'clock work for you?"

Sören started walking backwards and attempted to give the thumbs up, saw he had put up his index finger instead, and when he put up his thumb, he walked into Dooku, who quickly steadied him.

In the jeep on the way back to the hotel, Sören inexplicably began singing Smiths songs, at the top of his lungs, with his window down "so I don't barf."

"I AM THE SON, AND THE HEIR," Sören belted out the window, "OF A SHYNESS THAT IS CRIMINALLY VULGAR... I AM THE SON AND HEIR... OF NOTHING IN PARTICULAR..."

"Sören..."

Sören put his gloved fingertip to Dooku's lips and wailed, "SHUT YOUR MOUTH, HOW CAN YOU SAY, I GO ABOUT THINGS THE WRONG WAY... I AM HUMAN AND I NEED TO BE LO-O-O-VED..."

"Sören."

"JUST LIKE ANYBODY ELSE DOES..."

By the time they pulled in the hotel, Sören had gone through four Smiths songs, and then, for whatever reason, switched to Evanescence. "How can you see into my eyes like open doors? Leading you down, into my core... Something something numb, uh, something, soul... something something cold..."

"Sören, we're here. Are you going to be able to walk? Shall I carry you."

"Uhhh... I think... I just gotta..." Before getting out of the jeep, Sören paused for dramatic emphasis and started singing-yelling, "WAKE ME UP, WAKE ME UP INSIDE, I CAN'T WAKE UP..." And then as he attempted to climb out of the jeep, he fell into a snowbank.

Dooku did in fact carry Sören into the hotel, who was singing "SAAAAAAVE ME, SAVE ME FROM THE NOTHING I'VE BECOME" on their way past the reception desk.

Once they were in their hotel room, Dooku placed Sören down on the bed, took off his winter coat, and Sören stopped singing.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" Dooku said. "I am going to have some, because I feel as if my bones are frozen solid."

"All right."

Dooku ordered up room service, and soon a pot of hot chocolate and two cups arrived, with a basket of pastries.

Sören's motor skills were impaired enough by the drunkenness that he made a mess all over himself, and when Dooku went to help Sören clean up his shirt, he said, "We ought to just get in our pajamas for bed."

"I think I need help," Sören said. "I forgot how to move my toes."

Dooku dropped to his knees in front of Sören and reached in; Sören was wearing a button-down shirt and nothing underneath, and the sight of Sören's pale, creamy flesh exposed made Dooku hard. His hands trembled as he peeled the shirt off Sören's naked torso, looking at Sören's pierced nipples hard from the cold air. Sören felt Dooku's hard-on pressed against his shin, and their eyes met.

"Fuck me," Sören said, his voice husky.

It took Dooku a minute to weigh the decision carefully, and respond. "No," he said, even though he was aching for it.

"No?"

"No." Dooku shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because you are very, very, very drunk," Dooku said.

"And?"

"And," Dooku said, "I would feel more like it was consent if you were fully sober. Not to mention the fact that..." He swallowed hard. "Our first time... and especially _my_. First time." He took Sören's hand, and squeezed it. "I want you to remember it, and I feel as if we went there now... I don't know how much of tonight, you'll remember tomorrow."

Sören sighed. "All right."

They were under the covers shortly afterwards, and just held each other. After awhile Sören started giggling.

"What's so funny?" Dooku asked.

"You've never been in a barfight before, have you?"

Dooku sighed. "No. Not even once."

"In the course of a single day, you've played in the snow for the first time and danced for the first time and have been in your first barfight. If you fucked me today that would have been four firsts."

"Yes, well," Dooku said, patting Sören's shoulder, "again, you're too drunk for that right now."

"I suppose that's just as well," Sören said. "I'm not superstitious or anything, but in Japanese culture, four means death. But three is lucky, so... maybe our first time should be when that would be your third first in one day."

"You are definitely quite drunk."

"Já. And you need to try Brennivín, sometime. But you know what you need to try, even more? A _pylsa._ "

"Ugh. No thank you."

"Nico, you are going to eat a goddamn fucking _pylsa_ before we leave Iceland."

Dooku kissed Sören's forehead. "Right now, you are going to get some sleep."

"Sleep is for the weak," Sören mumbled, right before he passed out.


	13. Chapter 13

Despite being extremely hungover and needing to sleep late, Sören managed to be ready for Ari's pickup at one o'clock. Sören wanted to visit art museums, and Dooku being a man of culture approved of this; Ari himself was amenable to the idea, and on the way to dinner they took a detour to Ari's yoga studio - closed that week due to family emergency - where Ari showed off the art collection he had in the studio.

"I commissioned Sören to paint my meditation room," Dooku said, "and he did a magnificent job. You should commission him for art here."

"I should," Ari said.

"I'd do it for free since you're family," Sören said.

"Art is work and I'd insist on paying you."

They were joined by Margrét, Dagnýr, and Matt for dinner. Ari was in relatively chipper spirits from giving Sören and Dooku an art tour, and Margrét suggested that Ari do more of the same in the days prior to the funeral. After dinner, Margrét wanted to get caught up with Sören, so she was invited back to their hotel room, and Sören had more Brennivín as he and Margrét talked and played chess. Dooku read a book, grateful for some down time, though Sören had enough to drink that it meant sex was off the table again when it came time for bed.

The next few days were more of the same - Ari took Sören and Dooku around Reykjavik, sometimes accompanied by Margrét, Dagnýr, and Matt. Dooku got to see famous sights like Harpa, the modern glass concert hall and conference center, the Sun Voyager, a huge stainless steel sculpture of a boat set in granite by the sea, and the Imagine Peace Tower memorial to John Lennon, on Viðey Island in Kollafjörður Bay near Reykjavik, and Grótta Lighthouse on the Seltjarnarnes peninsula. Margrét insisted they see the Icelandic Punk Museum, a tiny museum in repurposed bathroom stalls; Sören got lots of pictures and even video with his phone to show Frankie. Dagnýr and Matt were interested in the flea market, which was busy enough that it gave Sören and Dooku both mild anxiety, but Sören still managed to be cheerful in the presence of his family.

More than once, it was suggested they visit one of the numerous swimming locations around Reykjavik - Dooku was surprised anything of the sort was open in the wintertime, and even more surprised to find out how popular and crowded these places were. Even if it had not been November and too cold for Dooku to consider removing his winter gear, he was shy about other people seeing him in just a pair of trunks. He could tell the others were disappointed, but they didn't press the matter and avoided the pools.

Each day was enough walking and activity that Sören and Dooku just wanted to sleep at night, curled up together like cats. Dooku liked sharing a bed with Sören, and found his presence comforting. Sören, also, seemed comforted by snuggling up to Dooku, being petted and rocked to sleep.

On the night before Katrín's funeral, Sören had a hard time falling asleep due to stress, to the point where Dooku was about to suggest Sören raid the hotel room's mini-bar for something to help him sleep. But at last Sören whispered, "Nico?"

"Yes, love."

"Do you think you could... sing to me?"

Dooku swallowed hard. Singing wasn't normally a thing he did in front of other people - he did sing, sometimes, if he was alone, and wasn't thinking about it. Performing was another story. "What would you like me to sing?"

"Well, I'd ask you to sing me an Icelandic lullaby, but you don't speak Icelandic. Or rather, you speak a few words, badly."

Dooku could hear the teasing smile in Sören's voice, and smiled back, with a playful swat to Sören's bottom. Sören laughed, and that did Dooku's heart good - at least, despite his stress, Sören could still make jokes.

"Did your mother used to sing to you?" Dooku asked.

A pause, and then Dooku felt Sören nodding. "Já."

Dooku could then feel the surge of emotions, and his arms tightened around Sören. "I'm sorry if that's a sore subject -"

"No, it's all right." Sören sighed. "I was only six when she died, but there are things I remember about her, very clearly, and I still miss her very much."

"I take it she wasn't like..."

"...Like my aunt Katrín. No. Not at all."

"I'm glad you had at least some kindness in your life." Dooku stroked Sören's face, and his curls.

"Já, she was good. She sang to us, she read to us, she played with us. She, uh... knew we were... Force sensitive... and she was OK with that because she was, too."

"I assume your aunt was not."

"No. My aunt and uncle beat it out of us pretty quickly. It wasn't even that they were afraid of what would happen to us if we were caught using it at school or in a public place, they thought it would make _them_ look bad. As opposed to, you know, their excessive drinking and domestic spats."

Dooku heard himself let out a _growl_. Sören chuckled and patted Dooku's arm. But the mood sobered again quickly.

"My mother died of a brain aneurysm when I was six," Sören said. "She lay down for a nap one afternoon and it got to be night, well past the time when we were supposed to have dinner and go to bed, and she didn't wake up. I tried waking her up and she couldn't."

"You were the one who found... her... body?"

Sören nodded.

"Love. I'm so sorry." Dooku sighed and squeezed Sören, pressing his forehead to Sören's. "No child should have to go through that."

"It was what made me decide to become a doctor," Sören said. "But I realized, when I got older and was in med school, that even if a doctor had been there, it wouldn't have saved her. And I couldn't save other people, and..." He let out a shuddery sigh, a prelude to a sob.

Dooku started rocking Sören and petting him.

"I had a breakdown," Sören said. "I was in a hospital for about a month, put on medication that just made me feel tired and stupid all the time, was surrounded by people much, uh... worse off than myself. I started painting, in the hospital, they had an art room, and I was encouraged to 'express my feelings'. We had an 'outsider art exhibit' and I was told by a gallery owner in Reykjavik he was seriously interested in my work. Of course I didn't know at the time he was just seriously interested in my arse. But that was how I entered the art world. Because I'm too much of a failure to do anything else."

"Darling, you're not," Dooku said. "That you even made it as far as medical school is an accomplishment. And your art is beautiful. Because you, _who you are_ , is beautiful. From the ashes of your tragedy, you grew meaning, you made something that has touched undoubtedly many other people besides myself. That is something to be proud of. It is not a failure at all."

"That's easy for you to say, you're a career barrister. You're actually doing something with your life. You heard my aunt at the hospital, dismissing this as 'silly painting' and 'just a phase', and maybe she's right, I'm going to be thirty-three in two weeks and I'm just a barista..."

"As a career barrister, I need balance in my life. Appreciating things like art isn't a luxury, it's a necessity. Your art resonated... _resonates_... with me. And your aunt judged you about other things, and she wasn't right about those." Dooku continued petting Sören. "You took to art as easily as you did because you were artistic as a child, yes?"

Sören nodded. "Já. My mother liked it when I painted and did drawings. The refrigerator was always full of my artwork."

"Something tells me that she'd be proud of you."

Sören broke down sobbing; Dooku pulled him into his chest and made soothing noises, tearing up himself, aching for what Sören had endured in his life.

"I still miss her so much," Sören said, finally. "My life would have been very different if she hadn't died. Why did she have to die first, and a miserable bitch like Katrín stay alive? I have no answers, except that any God who would allow that isn't very good."

Dooku gave a small, rueful smile. "I was raised Romanian Orthodox. I was very devout until I was in my early twenties. Even when the Force was awakening in me and I knew there were people who would think me demon possessed or even call for me to be burned at the stake, I tried to see it as a gift from God. And eventually I just... stopped... believing, for much the same reasons as you did. If there is a God, there is too much injustice and tragedy in the world to make him worth anything to me, and such things as the Force can be explained as science, eventually, when humanity has the right technology to study it. I continued to attend Mass for some time after that, out of force of habit, and then I stopped altogether, except for the time I visited Romania during Easter, and even then I felt nothing. I had aspirations of becoming a priest, actually, when I was a child, when I still believed, and my parents drilled that out of me because I was their eldest son and we are of noble blood and they wouldn't have me 'squander my life away' like that."

"And of course you never married or had children."

"No. Mercifully they both died when I was in my early thirties, so I didn't have to hear them nag for very long."

"When you say mercifully... I take it you weren't very close to them."

"No, not at all. My father was a strict disciplinarian - I was taken to the woodshed more times than I can count for minor infractions - and my mother was very cold and criticized me frequently - in hindsight I recognize much of what she said as verbal abuse. When I got sent to boarding school it was a bit of a relief, even as I also felt unwanted for it. I was close to my grandfather, but he died when I was ten."

"Sounds like your childhood was about as fun as mine."

"Yours seems worse, somehow."

Sören sighed. "Doesn't mean yours wasn't bad, Nico." He sighed again. "And I at least had a mother who loved me, once."

"You don't remember your father?"

"He died before I was two. From what our mother told us, she loved him very much and he was a good man, and Margrét remembers him a bit better and says he was very kind. They're buried on the same plot in Akureyri. I..." Sören's voice trailed off.

"Love." Dooku's voice was husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to make you more upset."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Sören said. "I've never really talked much about my life, to you, and since things have gotten, er..."

 _Serious? Complicated?_ The sort of complication Dooku would never see himself allowing in his life, even as recently as six months ago, but here they were. "Intense, perhaps," Dooku said.

"Já. It's not good to keep things bottled up inside, especially not around one's partner. If you can't be intimate with the person you love..."

"And vulnerable." Dooku kissed Sören's forehead. "I honor your trust in me."

"And I honor yours." Sören's lips brushed Dooku's, but gently, almost chaste. "Since the funeral's in the morning we should try to get some sleep."

"Do you... still want me to sing to you?"

"If you don't mind," Sören said. "I'm not picky what you sing, I just need... something."

Dooku spent a moment thinking about it and drew a blank, and he closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and just let the Living Force take hold. He heard himself begin to sing:

 _There's a lady who's sure_  
_All that glitters is gold_  
_And she's buying a stairway to heaven_  
_When she gets there she knows_  
_If the stores are all closed_  
_With a word she can get what she came for_

Even though Dooku had a bass voice and Robert Plant was a tenor, the song was not as awkward as he'd assume it would be. He hummed and resumed,

_...and she's buying a stairway to heaven_

_There's a sign on the wall_  
_But she wants to be sure_  
_'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings_  
_In a tree by the brook_  
_There's a songbird who sings_  
_Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving_

 _Ooh, it makes me wonder_  
_Ooh, it makes me wonder_

 _There's a feeling I get_  
_When I look to the west_  
_And my spirit is crying for leaving_  
_In my thoughts I have seen_  
_Rings of smoke through the trees_  
_And the voices of those who stand looking_

Sören's breath deepened and slowed, his body relaxing, and Dooku could tell Sören was starting to fall asleep, but he continued singing through the end - taking care not to belt out _And as we wind on down the road / Our shadows taller than our soul._ The final line, _And she's buying a stairway to heaven_ was soft, almost a whisper, as he stroked Sören's hair and kissed his forehead, making sure Sören was well and truly asleep.

Then Dooku let himself cry, for Sören, and for himself. Wishing they could have known each other as children, and been friends then.

_I guess we will have to make up for it now._

 

_

 

Dooku had never seen Sören in a suit and tie, and before that morning would have not even thought those items would be in Sören's wardrobe. And yet, they were - Sören had a dark grey wool suit, with a matching dark grey vest, and a darker grey tie, with white button-down shirt. He was still wearing his Doc Martens, though, which Dooku smiled at. Dooku's own suit was dark brown - he'd thought about wearing black but felt that might be too severe for the funeral of a woman he'd barely met and hated. Dooku and Sören looked well together, and Dooku noticed Sören kept ogling him in the jeep; Dooku couldn't take his eyes off of Sören, either. Thankfully, Sören was the one driving.

The funeral was being held at Katrín's church, still in Reykjavik but a good drive from where the hotel was located. It was snowing outside and the skies were grey, which seemed appropriate for the somber mood. They arrived at the church the same time as Margrét, Dagnýr, Matt, and Ari, who were traveling together in Dagnýr's rented SUV. Despite Dagnýr's casual attire all week, he too was wearing a suit and looked put-together - he was also wearing wire-rim glasses, and Dooku finally had a glimpse of the professor who'd been published in scientific magazines, taught at a university in Toronto and had presented at Cambridge and other prestigious institutions, even had his own Wikipedia article. The transformation was about as shocking as Sören's, but most shocking of all was that Margrét was even there, when it had been established she'd burned bridges and wasn't coming to the funeral.

"I'm not coming in with you guys," Margrét explained. "I'm here for moral support, I'm gonna hang out till it's over."

The funeral was presided over by Katrín's pastor. There weren't many attendants - a couple dozen at most, all of whom seemed to be from Katrín's church, a small Pentecostal establishment in Reykjavik. The kind of hateful rhetoric that the church espoused wasn't popular in Iceland, but nonetheless a couple dozen felt like an army - Dooku could feel the morally outraged stares as he held Sören's hand through the funeral, and Dagnýr and Matt openly had an arm around each other.

The funeral service was conducted in Icelandic, but Dooku could tell through his Force bond with Sören that the pastor was giving Katrín's testimony from violent alcoholic to a righteous woman who led prayer circles and Bible study and gave to the poor and needy, and Sören's teeth were on edge, fighting the urge to interrupt the service and recount Katrín's last day in the hospital. Dooku could also sense through his Force bond with Sören that the pastor was going on about how Katrín was in heaven now and not in any pain, and though almost everyone in the audience was "saved", it was obvious enough there were gay men in attendance that the pastor couldn't resist making an impassioned plea for nonbelievers to "accept Christ".

"What a crock of shit," Dagnýr hissed under his breath.

At last the pastor shut up, and it was time to view the body and pay respects. The family rolled eyes at the melodramatic wailing and prayers of Katrín's fellow churchgoers as they visited the coffin. Ari was first in line of the family members, and he kissed his fingertips and touched them to Katrín's forehead.

"Thank you for giving me life," Ari said softly, in English, for the benefit of Matt and Dooku. "I'm sorry you made the wrong choices in yours. I'm glad you're gone."

Dagnýr and Matt were next. "If I believed in hell, I'd tell you to fucking rot there, bitch," Dagnýr whispered.

Ari, Dagnýr and Matt waited as Sören approached the open coffin. Sören paused for a long minute, just looking, and at last he reached to touch Katrín's face. To onlookers it would have seemed like a tender gesture to a beloved aunt, but through their Force bond Dooku knew Sören was making sure she was really dead. Then at last Sören withdrew his hand, bent as if to give her a kiss... and spat in Katrín's face.

Then Sören said, simply, " _Drullukunta_."

After the viewing of the body there was the option to stick around for the burial - the church owned a small plot of land for such purposes. Sören elected to stay for the burial, and Ari, Dagnýr and Matt decided they would stay as well. Even though it was cold and snowing, and Dooku was annoyed by the church-goers singing Icelandic hymns, he understood to an extent why they were staying for the burial. Dooku did not understand why Sören was smirking, then quietly snickering, shaking with silent laughter - until Sören elbowed him and discretely pointed.

In the parking lot, Margrét was sitting on the hood of Dagnýr's rented SUV... smoking a joint. Dooku had come of age in the hippie era, and even though he had been "a square" during that time period, he recognized marijuana when he smelled it, and the smell was starting to waft over on the winter wind. Even though it was broad daylight and marijuana was still federally illegal in Iceland and she took a risk of being fined, Margrét was smoking a joint anyway, right there in plain sight, making a quiet but bold statement.

Margrét also had the SUV's music player going - in between hymns Dooku picked up the voice of Johnny Rotten:

 _Don't ask us to attend 'cos we're not all there_  
_Oh don't pretend 'cos I don't care_  
_I don't believe illusions 'cos too much is real_  
_So stop your cheap comment 'cos we know what we feel_

 _Oh we're so pretty_  
_Oh so pretty_  
_we're vacant_  
_Oh we're so pretty_  
_Oh so pretty_  
_we're vacant ah_  
_But now and we don't care_

Sören discretely took out his phone, snapped a couple photos of the burial, and then turned so his camera was on Margrét. Dagnýr pointed to his brother's camera and waved, and Margrét posed for the camera by raising both her middle fingers, the joint in her mouth.

During the last hymn Margrét turned up the volume on the car stereo, so the hymn had to compete with:

 _I am an antichrist_  
_I am an anarchist_

At last Katrín's coffin was in the ground, and the cross headstone placed on top. A few of her fellow churchgoers left flowers, which of course would freeze outside. Sören, Ari, Dagnýr and Matt hesitated. "Should we go now?" Matt asked.

Right on cue, Margrét was walking towards them. But instead of walking to her family, Margrét walked past them, and Dooku watched as Margrét approached Katrín's freshly dug grave. It was just them in the graveyard now - the pastor had gone back into the church. Dooku expected Margrét to spit and swear as Sören had done, and his jaw dropped as, instead, Margrét hiked up her skirt, and a moment later an arc of urine sprayed onto the cross headstone. Sören snapped a photo before it was over.

Sören and Dagnýr howled with laughter, and when Margrét walked back towards them she was grinning broadly.

"No wonder you drank so much coffee on the way here," Ari said. "I thought you were just tired and had a long night at the bar."

"Well I did," Margrét said, "but já, I had, er, ulterior motives. I've been wanting to do that for fucking _years._ "

The group went out to lunch, and as they waited for their food and worked on their drinks, Dagnýr said, "So like I mentioned earlier this week, I have to go back to Toronto tomorrow. I'll have a couple days to decompress before I return to the grind."

Sören nodded.

"And I have to open my studio up again," Ari said. "I can't afford to lose too much business, just this week was enough. Which means however long you'll be staying after this, I can't give any more sightseeing tours."

Sören looked at Dooku, and Dooku said, "We'd talked about staying an extra week, since I've never been to Iceland and there is more to see, and Sören doesn't feel emotionally ready to return to work himself."

"I have to deal with customers," Sören said, "and I'm a bit more sensitive than you guys."

Ari nodded. "I'd still love to get together with you at least one more time before you go!"

"I would too," Margrét said. "It's been too long."

"And if you're staying an extra week, I can recommend some more activities in Reykjavik -"

Sören cut Ari off. "Actually," Sören said, "I... don't want to stay in Reykjavik."

"You changed your mind?" Dooku's eyebrows went up.

"No," Sören said. "I just... want to go. To Akureyri, where we grew up."

"Ah," Ari said, nodding.

Sören looked at Dooku. "That's actually why I shot down every hotel suggestion the night we got here," Sören said. "It wasn't just that I felt uncomfortable with the amount of money you'd be spending, but..."

"You would have rather been in Akureyri," Dooku said. "That's... understandable."

"Very much so," Ari said.

"It's not that I disliked the tour this week, or spending time with you guys," Sören said.

"You don't have to explain, bro, we get it," Dagnýr said, smiling. "To be honest, I wish I could spend an additional week and go up there myself, but I can't."

"I can make a reservation somewhere when we get back to our room," Dooku said.

"I have a better idea," Ari said. He looked at Sören. "As you know, our grandfather left me his cabin, in Svalbarðseyri. If you don't mind something a bit rustic, you can stay there."

"How rustic are we talking about?" Dooku asked.

"It has electricity and running water," Ari said. "I go there at least a couple times a year as a form of retreat, to clear my head when Reykjavik gets too congested. It will be clean when you arrive. But it's small, just a bathroom, kitchen, a big bed, a couple of chairs and a small table. About the size of a studio apartment. And it's got a fireplace and wood stove. I put in a mini fridge and hot plate, you can get food in Akureyri which isn't far of a drive. So it's not a hotel with room service but it's still functional enough."

"That sounds good," Sören said.

"We can drive you back to the car rental place and to the airport," Dagnýr said. "It's only forty-five minutes to Akureyri by plane and there should be someplace to rent another jeep -"

Sören shook his head. "I want to drive there."

"That's a five-hour drive, probably closer to six in these weather conditions," Dagnýr said.

"I know. I still want to drive there." Sören took a deep breath. "I _need_ to drive there."

"You better get up there before stores close, unless you want to go shopping before you leave Reykjavik and bring food with you," Ari said.

"Well then, let's eat," Sören said, just in time for their food to come.

There was a long and somewhat tearful goodbye between Sören and his brother, with a promise to come to London for Christmas and keep in touch in the meantime. Then Sören and Dooku headed to their hotel room to pack once more and check out, and off they were in the jeep.

Even though the plane would have been more convenient and somewhat more comfortable, Dooku was glad for the scenery of the road trip, and even more than that, hearing Sören sing along with his playlist - Sören had a good voice when he wasn't drunk, a husky, somewhat bluesy tenor, and his Icelandic accent was charming. They watched the sun set, a dramatic fire in the sky, and then Dooku gasped a little as he watched the stars come out, more and more of them the further away they got from civilization. A half-hour away from Akureyri, Sören shut off the music altogether, so they could enjoy the silence.

"If you think that's impressive," Sören said, gesturing to the sky through the windshield, "wait until we're someplace with no light pollution."

The supermarket in Akureyri was one Sören had been in before, and knew where everything was, so it didn't take long for Sören to pick out some food for the next day and head to checkout. Then they drove to Svalbarðseyri, approximately a twenty-minute drive. Even in the darkness, the farming village on the fjord, surrounded by mountains, was impressive.

Ari was not exaggerating about the cabin's size - if anything it might have been a little smaller than a studio apartment. The cabin had not been used since at least the summer and was a bit musty, so Sören opened up a window for a brief while to air it out, as Dooku loaded the fridge and then walked around the small cabin, taking it all in.

The bathroom was about as large as the sleeping/sitting area - there was a showerhead, but there was also a deep and wide bathtub that could easily fit two people. Dooku's muscles ached from the long ride in the jeep, so it wasn't long before he stripped and got in the shower. Apparently, the water smelled like sulfur everywhere in Iceland, and he was almost used to it but not quite.

The almost-too-hot water soothed his sore muscles, and he came out of the bathroom in his pajamas - it was still cold in the cabin, though Sören was getting a fire going in the fireplace. Sören had also found where the blankets and quilts were stashed, in a wooden trunk near the bed. The bedding was clean enough, and Dooku admired the handmade quilts.

"My grandmother made those," Sören said, smiling. He pointed to a black-and-white picture on the fireplace mantle, of a woman who looked oddly enough like Margrét but from another era, with a man who looked like a bearded version of Dagnýr.

There was no television in the cabin; Dooku was surprised that he could get an Internet connection, though it was slower than in Reykjavik. He wondered if he also had cell - he did, and decided to call Qui-Gon while Sören showered, catching him up, and inquiring after Dragos who was still doing well.

Dooku was checking his e-mail when Sören came out of the bathroom in blue plaid flannel pajamas, toweling off his hair.

"You want something to eat?" Sören asked.

"Sure," Dooku said.

Sören made them lamb and potatoes on a skillet on the hot plate, seasoned well - it was the first time Dooku had seen Sören cook, and Sören's self-deprecating "I'm not much of a cook" was undeserved. Dooku complimented the food, washed down with chocolate milk from the store, and there was a bottle of Brennivín in the cabin's small liquor pantry, unopened, that Sören opened, and poured them each a shot glass.

Dooku had been hesitant to try Brennivín - more hesitant after he'd seen the effect it had on Sören, who got loud and silly, but here they were in the middle of what was more or less nowhere, and they both needed to unwind. So Dooku drank his glass of Brennivín, which tasted strongly of licorice, making him gag a little.

Dooku did dishes since Sören had cooked, and then Sören, already under the influence, decided to put on his winter coat, gloves, boots, and hat, and go out to sit in the snow and look at the stars. Dooku joined him. For awhile they just sat there - Dooku was mesmerized by the view of what seemed like hundreds of millions of stars, the clearest night sky he'd ever seen. He also felt a strange wave of terror, the full shock of how small he was, on a small planet, in such a big universe.

There was enough light from the cabin that Sören started puttering around in the snow, packing it together. Soon Dooku joined him - they were building a snowman close to midnight, and it was ridiculous, and it made him feel strangely alive. Once the snowman was built, Sören flopped on his back in the snow and began moving his arms and legs.

"What are you doing?" Dooku asked.

"Making a snow angel. You've never done that?"

"Of course not."

"Well..." Sören Force threw Dooku onto his back in the snow, and Dooku, chuckling, obliged Sören, moving his arms and legs, imprinting his form in the snow near the cabin.

Then Dooku and Sören got up - Dooku felt like he could barely stand - and they leaned on each other, staggering into the cabin.

"How do you drink so much of this stuff?" Dooku asked. "I had one glass and I feel like I dropped an anvil on my brain."

"I'm Icelandic," Sören said. "I'm pretty sure our blood is at least a quarter Brennivín."

Dooku snorted. "You were in medical school."

"It's a joke, silly." Sören used the Force to throw a pillow at Dooku. "Like that was a joke."

Dooku's response was to Force throw a pillow back, and soon they were hitting each other with pillows, both holding them and using the Force to bring them over. When Sören dodged a pillow it somehow ended up in the fireplace, and Sören doubled over laughing until he cried, watching it burn.

Then he just started crying.

"My grandmother made that," Sören said between his sobs.

"I'm sorry," Dooku said. "If I'd known I would have been more careful." He sighed and patted Sören's shoulder; he reached for Sören and pulled him close. "Did you know your grandparents?"

"Já, they died when I was a kid, but I remember them." Sören sighed. "I used to love visiting them because it was a break from..." He didn't need to finish the sentence. "They had a house in the village - this was just my grandfather's cabin, where he went to write poetry."

"He was a poet?"

"Everyone in Iceland is a poet," Sören said, "it's just that some of us are better at it than others."

Dooku said, "I know that you are, at least. There must be poetry in your soul to make the kind of art that you do."

"You're so bloody kind," Sören said. "I feel sometimes like I don't deserve it."

"If there's anything you don't deserve," Dooku said softly, "it's the abuse you endured."

Sören started sobbing again. Dooku had been waiting for it - he was surprised it took this long after the funeral for Sören to have another emotional catharsis. Dooku rocked Sören, petting him. "Let it out, sweetheart," Dooku soothed. "It's all right."

"I'm sorry," Sören sobbed. "I'm sorry for crying like this -"

"You have nothing to apologize for. Didn't you tell me last night that bottling emotions is bad to do? If I can vent to you, you can vent to me. Please do."

Sören sobbed again, and Dooku's arms tightened around Sören, rocking him and rocking him, making soothing noises as he stroked Sören's curls, his beard. "My love," Dooku said.

"I was so afraid of her," Sören said. "Both my aunt Katrín, and my uncle Einar... but Katrín moreso. Einar was nasty and mean to us all the time, but sometimes Katrín would be nice to us - like when she'd take us out for _pylsur_ and ice cream, or to a movie, or the flea market and buy us little things, like she was making up for the way she was when she was drunk. And it was the times when she was nice that... it would have been easier if she was awful all the time. It would have been more predictable. And it also made it harder to hate her."

"It seems like many abusers can get away with their abuse because they can put on a convincing act of not being like that all the time," Dooku said, "and it gives you false hope that they can change or things can get better or perhaps it's just all in your head and they're not truly this horrible person."

"Exactly." Sören nodded. "But it was the unpredictable behavior that made me afraid of her even more. It was never really safe, even when it seemed like it was safe. And when she'd had enough of being nice to us, she'd be even worse than Einar at his worst." Sören looked up, and looked into Dooku's eyes. "You know why I have the tattoos on my back, and my arms? To cover the fucking scars she gave me."

Dooku's own eyes stung with tears.

"You can see it if you look closely enough," Sören said, "but I wanted something that would hide it pretty well. And it was an act of... reclaiming myself. The phoenixes. Rebirth. The first painting I did, that later became what I showed the tattoo artist, was when I was in the hospital."

Dooku let the tears flow freely, let Sören see them. Sören cried more, and Dooku cried with him, openly.

"Even when I was a legal adult and she stopped hitting me because she knew I'd call the police on her," Sören said, "she still kept verbally abusing me. I'd cut off contact with her and she'd still find me. She showed up at the hospital just to tell me how pathetic and disgusting I was."

"Which you're not at all," Dooku said.

"When I was a kid," Sören said, "there were times when I wanted her to die. When I was in the hospital, in fact, I told her I wanted her to die, and then had to convince the staff I wasn't homicidal which was... really fun. But the truth is if I could have gotten away with it, I don't know what I would have done." Sören sobbed again. "So of course, finally, there she is in a hospital bed, dying. And part of me is relieved that it's finally fucking over... and part of me feels guilty..."

"You didn't kill her," Dooku said. "You may have the Force, but you didn't... give her cancer... with the Force. That's not how the Force works. Her death wouldn't have been that slow."

Sören laughed, and then he cried some more. "I still feel bad. Because yes, part of me wanted her to die, but not like that? I could see how much pain she was in, at the end. Coughing up blood. She lost a lot of weight. When she had the chemo, she went bald. Cancer is a horrible way to die, and... even though there were times I wanted her dead, I didn't want her to die like that... and yet... she did so much awful stuff to us, and I should be happy..."

"You can't help how you feel," Dooku said, "and it's all right for you to have all these mixed emotions. You've been through a lot."

"I feel like all I do is feel," Sören said. "I feel too goddamn much. Even tonight, I wanted to drink to try to get my mind elsewhere, but instead I'm right here, drowning..."

"You're not alone." Dooku took Sören's hands in his, and squeezed them. He kissed Sören's forehead. "It will be all right. I won't let you drown."

"Hold me," Sören said.

They got under the covers, and Dooku held Sören, letting him cry some more, until at last Sören fell asleep. Dooku watched Sören sleep, aching for him - feeling some relief to see Sören at peace in his sleep - and at last the alcohol washed over him, sending him into sleep as well.

 

_

The fire had gone out, and the cabin was cold again. It was just as well, because Sören didn't want to stay put during the day. They drove into Akureyri - a town of just 18,000 - and Sören gave Dooku the tour, showing him the neighborhood where he grew up, the schools he went to, the park he used to play. There was a swimming pool open, with just a few people there, and Sören looked at Dooku expectantly, but the shy look on Dooku's face made Sören drop it and think of something else to do.

They stopped at the supermarket and then, after loading up the fridge with provisions, went for a walk back in Svalbarðseyri - or more accurately, a hike through the snow. There was enough daylight left for a spectacular, breathtaking view of the fjord - downright magical. Sören took pictures and did some sketching, as Dooku meditated, touching the Living Force as clearly as he ever had in the beautiful, pristine mountain fjord.

When it was close to sunset, Sören started a fire in the fireplace and then built a fire pit right there in the snow, to have a barbecue, explaining that Icelanders loved barbecues even in the wintertime. Dooku was amused by this. When the food was ready they had a picnic, watching the sun set. There was no alcohol with their meal, this time. After the sun went down and twilight gave way to the first stars, Sören leaned on Dooku's shoulder, and took his hand.

"Thank you for coming up here with me," Sören said.

"Thank you for taking me to this place," Dooku said. "It's magnificent." He turned his head, and Sören turned his. "You're magnificent."

They hadn't had a real kiss in days, and it quickly got heated. They kissed again and again, hungry for it, hands roaming across coats. It wasn't long before Dooku and Sören were walking into the cabin, kissing all the way. Their winter gear came off near the doorway - Dooku didn't even give a damn about neatly hanging up his coat and hat, for once. Nor did he care about his clothes strewn across the floor on the way to the bed. Only when Sören saw him naked for the first time, did he feel a moment's hesitation, but the sight of Sören naked and hard for him was enough to make that inhibition go away.

Still feeling a little shy, Dooku climbed onto the bed with Sören, and once they were both on the bed, the kissing resumed, and hands feverishly caressed and stroked bare flesh for the first time. Sören's fingers played through the hair on Dooku's arms and chest, while Dooku enjoyed the feeling of Sören's smooth chest and soft skin. Dooku still felt self-conscious about his naked body, especially considering his age, but he didn't stop Sören when Sören pushed Dooku onto his back and began to work his way down.

"You are so fucking sexy," Sören husked, kissing Dooku's neck, kissing his way to Dooku's nipples, lapping at each of them, suckling, nibbling, licking some more, alternating between fast and slow strokes of his tongue. Dooku had never known his nipples were so sensitive, like a direct line to his cock, and he couldn't keep from moaning. His moans got louder as Sören kissed and licked the space of his chest between, bathing the chest hair with his tongue like a wolf grooming another. Sören spent a long time just licking and sucking Dooku's nipples, licking and caressing his chest, then at last moving his head to the stomach, which was equally exquisitely sensitive, making him arch and cry out, grabbing Sören's curls.

"Fuck, you're in great shape," Sören growled, tracing the muscle definition with his fingers. "God, I fucking want you." Sören's hard-on rubbing against Dooku's leg was proof of that. But soon Sören was kissing his legs, too, kissing, licking, and nibbling from Dooku's stomach down his thigh and one calf, and then up the other, his fingers following the trail of his tongue, playing through the white hair. Dooku's thighs were another wickedly sensitive place, and Sören spent a long time there, teasing.

Dooku was as hard as he had ever been in his life, leaking so much precum his shaft was slick and glistening with it. With one hand reaching to caress and rub Dooku's chest and stomach, and the other playing with Dooku's thigh, Sören put his head between Dooku's legs, buried his nose in Dooku's bush to breathe in his scent, licked the white fur there as well, and then took a long lick from the head down the shaft, and then back up, his eyes riveted on Dooku's eyes the entire time. Dooku could barely breathe, his body locked in pleasure and excitement so intense he felt he could explode. And when Sören took him into his mouth, bit by bit, Dooku almost embarrassed himself with the moans he couldn't control, gasping for breath at the delicious feeling of Sören's mouth wrapped around him, the way those full, luscious lips looked around his cock, the heat in Sören's eyes as he watched every reaction.

Sören worked his tongue as he sucked, like he was kissing it but not quite. Soon the hand playing with Dooku's thighs began to cup and rub Dooku's balls, and Dooku whimpered, electrified by his touch. Sören sucked harder and faster, bobbing his head, and Dooku felt the tension building, winding, threatening to break him, yet never wanting it to stop. _This is why people make such a big deal about sex._ Nothing had ever felt so good, made him feel more alive.

Just before Dooku's excitement could hit its peak, Sören pulled the cock out of his mouth and teasingly licked at it, building the tension even higher, deeper, making Dooku feverish, and the _undignified noises_ coming out of him were almost shameful if he hadn't been too lost in wanting this, _needing_ it so badly. Sören teased and teased with his tongue, and soon his tongue was on Dooku's balls, and when Sören started sucking on those too, Dooku clutched Sören's head, writhing, panting, almost sobbing with sexual need - needing to come, but also needing it to never stop, needing more...

Mercifully, Sören took Dooku's cock back into his mouth, and resumed sucking, this time more slowly, continuing to tease with his tongue rubbing as he sucked. Dooku's moans got louder and louder, and at last, when Sören sped up again, Dooku heard himself yell, wordlessly, as the first shock wave of orgasm hit him. His eyes locked with Sören's, and as another jolt wrenched through him he cried out, "Sören. _Sören_ , my love, my love..." Another wordless scream, as Sören drank all he had to give and his cock throbbed and throbbed with endless, melting pleasure, and for a moment all he could see was pure, brilliant light, merging with that light, weightless, joyous.

Sören came up to kiss him, and at the taste of himself on Sören's lips - the evidence that they had done this, that he had _given himself_ this way... that Sören had made love to him, had treated his body like a temple, with adoration and worship - Dooku started to cry. Like the moans of passion as Sören had made love to him, he couldn't help it. It wasn't happy tears, it wasn't sadness - it was something above and beyond any emotion he'd felt so far, something he wasn't able to classify. He had surrendered, in Sören's tender loving care, and Sören had given him ecstasy, as vast and profound as the sea of stars hanging over them - he had felt infinite, in his release. Sören had given him a gift that no one else had, no one else could. He wasn't just naked in his body, but he had been naked in his soul, then, and Sören _knew_ that, and the look of awe and wonder and love in Sören's eyes made him weep, weeping harder when Sören lovingly, reverently kissed his tears.

"I love you," Dooku sobbed, brokenly.

"I know," Sören husked. "I love you too, Nico." He continued to kiss Dooku's tears. "You are so beautiful when you come."

Dooku cried more, and Sören at last pulled him close, his arms a wall to protect the mystery they had shared. Sören rocked and pet Dooku, echoing the way Dooku had rocked and pet him last night. For all that Dooku had felt deeply alone for most of his life, he wasn't alone anymore, and the shock of that broke the last of his reserve with Sören, pouring his tears, his pain, and the hope he'd dared not have. Between the power of his climax and the emotional release afterwards, Dooku felt drained enough to fall asleep, there in his beloved's arms, with Sören holding him all through the night.


	14. Chapter 14

Dooku had never slept nude, and his first reaction when he woke was being startled at being naked... then seeing Sören's bare shoulders next to him. Even though they were under blankets and quilts, Dooku knew Sören was also naked because he could feel Sören's bare skin against his...

...and memories immediately came flooding back, of what they'd done last night. The way Sören had sucked his cock, had brought him to an intense climax so shattering he wept afterwards. Completely fell apart in Sören's arms, weeping...

_And I fell asleep like that. Sören was left unsatisfied. I am a selfish bastard._

Dooku let out a little sigh. He hadn't expected to just pass out like that, and he felt a pang of guilt, knowing Sören had been hard for him, and probably ached if he hadn't eventually relieved himself - and he couldn't recall Sören getting up, which would have woken him.

Dooku looked at Sören now and sighed again, this time with happiness instead of regret - Sören looked so beautiful when he slept, curls tousled, long eyelashes framing his cheeks, full lips slightly parted as he breathed. Without thinking about it, Dooku leaned in to kiss Sören's forehead, and then slid his lips down Sören's nose, to kiss the tip.

Sören gave him a slow, sleepy smile, stirring at last. "Nico," he mumbled.

"Yes, love."

Sören wasn't just awake, he was also hard now. Dooku peeled the covers back and took a long look at Sören's naked body, and he too was growing hard, admiring Sören's creamy skin and lithe figure, like a dancer. Sören's cock was impressive, it would have been intimidating on a smaller man but on Sören it just looked natural. Sören was uncut, and there was a titanium captive bead ring in the head of his cock, that had fascinated Dooku since he'd seen that video on Sören's phone.

Dooku had never done anything with anyone, so he was shy and hesitant, yet eager, as he moved downward to take Sören's cock into his mouth for the first time, wanting to show Sören appreciation for taking care of him last night... wanting to give back. Sören's cock was thick enough that he could only get the first couple inches in at first, but he knew that the head was the most sensitive part anyway and his shyness gave way to enthusiasm, enjoying the feel of sucking Sören's cock. At last he relaxed enough to swallow down more of it - his gag reflex kicked in so he pulled back slightly, but what he could manage, he continued sucking, working his tongue the way Sören had worked his, as he sucked.

Sören moaned and clutched Dooku's head, and Dooku took it as a sign to suck faster and harder. As he did, he reached to cup Sören's balls and start gently playing with them the way Sören had played with his last night.

"Oh god... Nico..." Sören writhed and whimpered, and then he gasped out, "Stop..."

Dooku's eyes widened with shock. He stopped sucking, but Sören's cock was still in his mouth. Sören's eyes opened and their eyes met and Sören shook his head. "No," he said.

Dooku reluctantly took Sören's cock out of his mouth, feeling mildly stung. He knew he was a novice but he didn't think he was doing that badly, considering he was repeating what Sören had done to him. "You don't like it?" Dooku asked, feeling sheepish that his voice sounded so sad.

Sören laughed, and said, "I do like it... that's why I told you to stop."

Dooku was confused, and the look of confusion on his face made Sören laugh harder.

When Sören saw this was annoying Dooku he stopped and patted the space next to him on the bed.

"I wanted to please you," Dooku explained, "after the way you -"

"I don't want you to feel obligated, Nico. I did what I did because I wanted to."

"Well," Dooku said, "so did I."

Sören just smirked, raised an eyebrow, and then pointed to the time on the alarm clock next to them. It was 12:09 PM.

Dooku gasped.

"Jæja, we slept _that_ late," Sören said.

"I've never slept past..."

"I know." Sören chuckled. "I figured when you started it was already late enough in the morning it wasn't a good idea, but now that I've actually seen the time - if we start this now we'll never get out of here today."

Dooku gave a small sigh of resignation. "I suppose you're right."

"How did you sleep?"

"Well." Dooku nodded. "The best I've slept in a long time."

Sören smiled. He reached out to stroke Dooku's face, skritch his whiskers. "Good."

Dooku took Sören's hand and kissed it. The sudden change in mood had made both of them go soft, and now there was just the feeling of needing to urinate. Dooku excused himself to the bathroom, and Sören was getting changed when he came out. Dooku felt self-conscious about being naked again, but that vanished once Sören used the Force to throw clothes at him.

"Put those on before I change my mind about us leaving this bed," Sören growled.

Sören had a cooler and a small duffel bag that he threw into their rental jeep. The first stop was the supermarket - this time Sören picked out already prepared foods, which surprised Dooku, but Sören explained, "We're going on a bit of a trip."

"Oh?"

Sören nodded. "There's a few things I want to show you."

In addition to food and drinks, Sören went down an aisle by himself, stating he was getting a "surprise", and he also bought flowers - quite expensive, for being imported at this time of year. Dooku thought that an odd gesture, but didn't say anything.

His puzzlement over the flowers was quickly cleared up; their first stop was Akureyri's local graveyard, at Naustahofdi. It was situated on a hill, with a view of the city. Sören and Dooku walked more slowly as they entered the graveyard, and then just paused for awhile so they could enjoy the view - the picture-perfect panorama of Akureyri in wintertime. Finally Sören nudged Dooku along, leading the way - Dooku had a feeling of where they were going, now, which was confirmed when Sören stopped in front of two large headstones.

One of the headstones was inscribed _Sigurd Tollasson, 1957-1986_ and the other was inscribed _Brynhildur Jónsdóttir 1960-1990_. Both gravestones had evidence of past gifts, but nothing recent.

Sören knelt down in the snow, kissed his fingertips, and pressed them against his mother's grave before laying the bouquet of flowers between the two headstones.

Dooku waited quietly - he saw Sören's shoulders shaking, with silent tears. Via their Force bond Dooku saw a flash of one of Sören's memories.

_"Mamma? Þú þarft að vakna núna."_

_Shaking her, but she won't wake up. Her skin is cold. "Mamma? Vaknaðu. Vaknaðu, Mamma..."_

_I don't know what to do, she won't wake up, it's dark, I'm hungry, I'm scared. I try to remember the number to call for emergency - 112 - and repeating it over and over again, I go to the phone. I tell the person on the other line, through my tears, that my mother won't wake up. A little while later there are so many sirens, so many people in our house, they're carrying out my mother, they ask us a lot of questions, finally Aunt Katrín shows up._

_"Móðir þín er dauður. Þú ert að koma heim með mér."_

_My six-year-old mind can't wrap around the concept of "dead". She has to come back, she's my mother... as the days go by I understand she's not coming back, ever, and I miss her and I try to remember the happy times but I keep thinking of her passed out on the couch, the last time I ever saw her, and how helpless I felt, couldn't save her..._

Dooku found himself behind Sören, with his hands on Sören's shoulders, rubbing them as Sören cried brokenly - not just for the grief he felt as a small child, but all that he endured after, going from the tender loving care of his mother, to his father's sister's abuse, not being able to protect his siblings the same way he couldn't resurrect his mother.

At last Dooku pulled Sören up to his feet, wrapped his arms around the younger man, holding him tight.

"I'm not religious at all," Dooku said, softly, "but I believe that there is much about the Force that we do not understand and science can eventually explain... and one of those beliefs is that consciousness does not exist in a vacuum. When the body dies, what we might think of as the soul - the mind, the heart, the life - lives on, somehow. Maybe not in an afterlife the way organized religions see it, but a great cosmic sea. And like the cycle of precipitation, someday your mother's spark of life may animate a new body, and you may see her again."

Sören nodded, trembling. "I still... dream about her."

"I have dreamt about Yodha many times since his death," Dooku said, "and there are not a few times I've felt as if he's right there with me, watching something I'm saying or doing."

Sören pulled his head out of Dooku's shoulder; Dooku handed Sören a handkerchief and Sören wiped his face. "I wonder if Mamma is watching us now," he said. He gave a small, sad smile. "I hope she would approve of you."

"So do I," Dooku said. He squeezed Sören's hand. "I love you very much."

Sören took Dooku's face in his hands and kissed him, hard. Just then, the wind began to stir, with a few flakes of snow coming down around them.

Sören laughed, and then started crying again, and Dooku continued to rub Sören's face with the handkerchief until Sören calmed down. Sören took one last look at his parents' graves, then blew a kiss and waved goodbye, before he took Dooku's hand and they walked away, not looking back.

"Do you need this again?" Dooku asked, offering the handkerchief.

Sören shook his head, and then let out a little chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Dooku asked.

"That's the same exact handkerchief you lent me when we first met. The one I had to dry clean because I got eye makeup all over it."

Dooku looked, and then nodded. "Ah, it is." He smiled.

"At least I wasn't wearing eye makeup this time." Then Sören snickered. "Though if I messed up your handkerchief again I could just offer to pay you back another way."

It took Dooku a moment to realize what Sören meant, and his eyebrows went up. "Oh, myyyyy." He felt flustered, but in a good way.

Sören squeezed Dooku's hand.

Then it was Dooku's turn to chuckle.

"What?" Sören asked.

Dooku smiled. "I love the way you say 'handkerchief.'"

Sören smiled and actually blushed. "Oh."

"I love your accent," Dooku said. "It was one of the things that attracted me to you."

Sören laughed, that full-bodied, robust laugh ringing out that Dooku loved so much. "I always feel self-conscious about it," Sören said. "I've been living in the UK for over two years but I still sound like a foreigner. My brother barely has any accent when he speaks English, though he's been living abroad for much longer."

"I see."

They got in the jeep, and Dooku said, "I still love your accent, even if you feel self-conscious about it." He patted Sören's hand. "You could say anything and it sounds beautiful." His voice lowered - he added, "And sexy." He'd never said that before about anything or anybody, and it felt strange to him, but also right.

Sören laughed again. "Sexy, já? You think it sounds sexy when I say _handkerchief_?"

"Well... yes."

Sören continued laughing as they got on the road. "Penguin. Ambulance. Football stadium. Cucumber."

"Despite my fondness for your accent, my dear, that all sounds rather wrong juxtaposed."

"Does it? That's my kinky plans for us later."

The look on Dooku's face made Sören laugh so hard he had to pull over, and borrow the handkerchief again. Dooku laughed too.

"You're a little shit," Dooku told him.

"I know." Sören beamed proudly.

When Sören resumed driving, he pointed at a hot dog cart. "We have a bit of a drive ahead of us so you may get hungry between now and when we arrive at our destination. I'm going to get a _pylsa_ , are you very sure you don't want one?"

"Oh, all right, I will try the bloody thing if it will get you to stop telling me I should try it."

Sören smiled. He got out of the jeep while Dooku waited, and came back with two _pylsur_. Dooku looked at his first, studying it - it was a bit messier than he would have liked, and he wasn't the biggest fan of raw onion, but -

"Would you just fucking eat it already."

Dooku and Sören ate their _pylsur_ in silence; Sören had brought some Coca-Cola and they washed it down. Finally after Dooku wiped his mouth and beard, Sören asked, "How was that?"

"It was better than I expected," Dooku said. "It was neither the best thing I've ever put in my mouth nor was it the worst."

"Oh really?" Sören raised an eyebrow as he started driving again. "What's the best thing you ever put in your mouth?"

Dooku smiled; Sören had walked right into it. "You."

"Oh, my fucking god." That laugh again. "Shit."

Dooku leaned back in his seat, his smile growing broader and more smug. "I do hope that wherever you're bringing me, it's worth not being able to finish what I started."

"I certainly hope so," Sören said. "But, you know... there's always later."

"Good."

Sören put music on for the ride, which was over an hour and a half. Their first stop was the famous Dimmuborgir, near Lake Mývatn. Dimmuborgir would have been impressive at any time of year, but the winter landscape gave it a haunted feeling. Sören took lots of pictures as they got out of the jeep and walked around to explore the lava formations. At one point, Sören asked Dooku to pose - the wind was kicking up and blew his fur-lined cape. Sören took several photos and then showed Dooku the end result.

"You look fucking majestic," Sören said. "Like a god."

Dooku laughed and blushed. "I hope not, considering what Yodha told me about Earth religions."

"Key word was 'like'."

Sören took the cooler and duffel bag out of the jeep. Since nobody else was around, he used the Force to spread a blanket on the snow, and then unpacked the cooler with the meal and drinks he'd bought at the supermarket - fruit juices, and assorted fish, and cheese, and berries, and a cheesecake for dessert. They sat on the blanket and ate together - feeding each other towards the end of the meal. It felt somewhat magical to be enjoying good food together in such a wonderful setting, especially as the sun got lower in the sky.

"The sun sets so early here this time of year," Dooku said as they packed up the jeep.

"It does," Sören said. "It's why I wanted us to get here as quickly as possible, so we'd still be able to see the Dimmuborgir in daylight. Though watching the sun set here is nice too."

They sat in the jeep and did that, drinking water as the sunset painted the sky in indigo, violet, red, orange, and gold, making the Dimmuborgir look mythical and almost apocalyptic in the snow, especially as the fire gave way to twilight, more blues and purples, tinged with gold.

At last Sören began to pull out, back onto the road, and Dooku remarked, "That was amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Sören nodded and rubbed his knee.

Then Dooku said, "You know, it just now occurred to me your parents are named -"

"Sigurd and Brynhildur, já, I heard from people who knew my parents that they made jokes about it when they were dating. Apparently they played 'Ride of the Valkyries' at their wedding on kazoo and everything."

Dooku laughed. "I guess you inherited your sense of humor."

"I suppose I did. What I remember of my mother, she was always laughing and joking and playing with us." Sören smiled. "I hear my father was like that too. I think his sister missed those genes."

"Or maybe she had a sense of humor once and drank it away."

"Já, I don't know what her personality was like before the alcoholism," Sören said. "Though after she got sober she certainly wasn't very pleasant, either. I suppose she was set in her ways by then."

Dooku nodded.

"Sometimes I think about what she would have been like if circumstances were different," Sören said. "I tried to have compassion for her, for a very long time. A lot of my compassion died when Margrét -" His voice trailed off.

Dooku raised an eyebrow. "When Margrét what?"

"I feel like it's not my story to tell but on the other hand you are family now, so." Sören took a deep breath. "When she was a he - Magnús... Margrét liked to put on dresses and makeup when we were younger, and got badly beaten for it. Some of the times when I got beaten, actually, were when I tried to shield Magnús. I didn't understand what the big deal was about wanting to wear dresses, or saying he wanted to be a girl, or any of that. It just seemed normal to me, you know? I hated seeing my family suffer. And then, finally... a couple of years after I had a breakdown and was hospitalized... Margrét attempted suicide and was in the same hospital. And it came out that Margrét had attempted suicide because Margrét was tired of the... uh, dysphoria... and being perceived as male, and so on. So Magnús became Margrét - got the transgender diagnosis, started therapy, started hormones, grew breasts. And Katrín was still drinking at the time and showed up when Margrét was getting out of the doctor's office one day, and said, literally, 'I wish you had killed yourself. You're disgusting.'"

" _That's_ disgusting," Dooku said, frowning.

"Margrét attempted suicide a second time shortly after that. She got better, and she's been better for some years now, but... já, the suicide rate for transgender people is pretty high, and Margrét was almost a statistic, and Katrín was a large part of why Margrét came very close to not being with us. When Katrín made her apologies for how she was, a few years ago, that was one thing I couldn't forgive her for. I just don't understand why she had to be like that, especially when it was obvious how much pain Margrét was in before she transitioned. So as much as I'd tried for years to have pity on whatever pain my aunt was in enough to start self-medicating with alcohol, I've lost my ability to have sympathy after the way she treated Margrét."

"That's understandable," Dooku said. "Just from what little I saw in the hospital, she seemed like a real piece of work."

"And yet," Sören said, "it was still sad to see her die the way she did. Suffering, in the end." Sören shook his head. "And I hate myself for feeling that way."

"You have a gentle heart," Dooku said. "The kind of sensitivity that makes beautiful art."

"I do not have a gentle heart," Sören said. "I've seen a lot of shit."

"A rose is not less delicate for its thorns."

Sören frowned and continued driving.

Dooku said, finally, "You didn't just move to the UK for your art, did you? Because it seems like you could have done well with it in Reykjavik."

"Being across the ocean from Katrín was part of it," Sören said. "But it wasn't just that, either."

"Oh?"

Sören gave a small and somewhat sheepish smile. "I'm gay."

"I had _no idea._ Truly. I'm shocked by this information."

Sören laughed again. "As you know..."

"What if I told you..."

Sören's laughter cut him off. Then Sören was serious again. "No, what I mean is... that's another reason why I moved."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, as from everything I've heard Iceland is rather a mecca for LGBT people -"

"Já, it is." Sören sighed. "It's... Iceland is a small country. Akureyri, my hometown, is 18,000 people. Reykjavik itself is just over a hundred thousand. So if you consider that gay people are always a minority in the population, in a country as small as Iceland, you start to... know everyone else who is. For better or for worse."

"Ah."

"My longest-term relationship was with a Brazilian, and after that I had a string of, uh, experiences, mostly with non-locals. Tourists. Except I was competing with just about every other gay man in Iceland. And the scene got old. It was enough where I felt I needed to go elsewhere." Sören smiled. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I left Iceland, but the best things in life are always surprises."

"I agree," Dooku said. "I wasn't expecting any of this at all. I'd rather planned my life around avoiding attachments and complications."

"Here's to the Force disrupting our plans," Sören said.

"Indeed."

"But I hope you'll like these plans, just the same."

They were at the Nature Baths at Lake Mývatn. Dooku was surprised it was open even though it was November and now after dark, at that. However, it didn't seem crowded.

"You..." Dooku's face fell. "I... don't..."

"Look," Sören said. "If you're really that uncomfortable you can sit in the car and I'll try to make it quick, but if you'd like to do something adventurous for a change... I have two pairs of swim trunks in that duffel bag." Sören smirked. "Don't be worried about what other people think of your body. Be worried about whether or not I'll try to ravish you in the jeep after I've been looking at it for awhile."

Dooku followed Sören out of the jeep. Sören paid for both of them - the entrance fee was surprisingly cheap - and then they headed into a locker room.

"You're going to have to get completely naked and shower," Sören said. "Pool rules."

"What."

Sören nodded. "If you don't believe me, you can ask the attendants."

"He's right," said one of them. "That's the rule here."

Reluctantly, Dooku disrobed and put his clothing in a locker. He got in a shower stall opposite Sören. The sight of Sören showering naked in front of him managed to take his mind off his discomfort, to the point where Dooku was erect by the time he got out of the shower, and Sören gave him a hungry look before throwing swim trunks at him. Dooku put them on, and he and Sören walked hand in hand towards the hot spring.

The water was indeed very warm, enough that Dooku had to go in a little at a time. Once he was in up to his waist, Sören began pulling him deeper, towards a rock where they could sit and rest. It was then that Dooku noticed the stars above them - as lovely as the view at the cabin where they were staying. Being in the hot spring under the stars was magical, made more so by Sören's company, his delight in watching Dooku relax for the first time in his life.

"They'll bring us beer," Sören said.

"What?"

Sören ordered two bottles of beer, which were brought directly to them in the spring. Dooku couldn't believe it. He'd never been much of a beer drinker, preferring wine, but nonetheless, the frosty beer in the hot spring sounded good. He and Sören clinked bottles and then Sören gasped, "Oh my fucking god."

Dooku looked up. The sky was changing color above them - a green and blue aurora, with stars twinkling through. It took his breath away, watching the colors swirl. The hair on his arms and neck stood on end, feeling electricity down his spine. The entire world seemed to sing.

Sören kissed him, then, and Dooku moaned into the kiss, moaning again when he felt Sören's hard-on press against his, through their trunks. Kissing under the aurora in the hot spring was the most amazing moment of his life, and Dooku savored it, never wanting it to end.

They pulled apart, breathless, and snuggled together, drinking beer as they watched the aurora and the starscape, deeply relaxed by the heat of the baths. Dooku didn't want to leave, and Sören was in no rush. But time wore on, and Sören finally said, "I have prune fingers," showing Dooku.

Dooku chuckled. "I am a prune."

"You're a very sexy prune."

It was Dooku's turn to let out a full-bodied loud laugh that echoed across the spring. "You are ridiculous, and I love you."

"I know." Sören kissed the tip of his nose, and looked into his eyes. " _Ég elska þig líka, elskan mín_."

They kissed once more, hands roaming, and then Sören began pulling him out of the baths before they could get up to anything inappropriate right then and there.

 

_

 

The shock of the bitter cold after the warmth of the pool was enough that Dooku was still shivering when they'd been on the road for ten minutes. Sören pulled over to retrieve another blanket from the duffel bag, and wrapped it around Dooku.

"You look so cute like that," Sören said.

"I am not cute."

Sören began poking Dooku and said in a high-pitched, squeaky voice, "No, stop touching me! I AM THE NIGHT!"

"You. Are. A. Brat."

"No shit." Sören resumed driving. "Let's get dinner somewhere, já?"

Dooku stopped shivering when they'd been on the road awhile, though he remained huddled in the blanket all the way to Akureyri, and frowned every time Sören looked at him and said, "Cute," or "Doki-doki", or, the worst, "Uwu!"

"I am not cute," Dooku muttered.

There was a Mexican restaurant in Akureyri called Serrano. Dooku had never eaten Mexican food before, and the idea of trying Mexican cuisine for the first time in Iceland made him laugh at the absurdity. The food seemed a bit too much finger food and messy for him, but he ate it anyway and enjoyed it, sensibilities be damned, and when he spilled a little salsa on himself Sören leaned in and licked it off his shirt like a dog, then licked his face like a dog, making them both laugh.

They approached the cabin in a reverent hush, admiring the stars over the fjord village capped in snow. Once they got to the door of the cabin Dooku said, simply, "Thank you. For... everything. The trip to the graveyard. Dimmuborgir. The baths at Lake Mývatn. And Serenno."

"You mean Serrano."

"Serenno, Serrano."

"You only had one beer, you couldn't possibly be drunk." Sören's eyes twinkled with mischief.

"I am drunk on love." Dooku kissed him, hard.

It was another night of undressing right there at the door, their clothes strewn across the floor. But instead of going straight to bed, Sören made Dooku wait outside the bathroom as he went in and used it, and then Sören opened the bathroom door and pulled Dooku into the shower with them. They kissed and caressed as they soaped each other, and holding each other under the running water, kissing, their cocks rubbing together, was another magical moment that Dooku never wanted to end.

When they climbed out and towelled off, Sören explained, "I wanted to be cleaned out for what we're... uh, about to do."

It took a moment for it to register with Dooku, and then his eyes widened.

They walked to the bed and Sören used the Force to open the duffel bag one last time; Dooku watched as a bottle of lubricant rose out. Sören climbed onto the bed, and after a minute Dooku climbed on, climbed over him, and Sören's arms wrapped around him, pulling him in for a deep, hungry kiss.

"I want you," Sören whispered. "Inside me."

Dooku thought of the video he'd watched of Sören riding the dildo, and shuddered. Sören nipped Dooku's lower lip with a growl. "You saw that video on my phone," Sören said.

"I did," Dooku said. "I'm sor-"

Sören laughed - more deeply than before, an almost menacing laugh, sexy. "I wanted you to find that."

"You. Did."

"I did." Sören's eyes narrowed. "I wanted you to think about what it would be like."

Dooku kissed him hard, and Sören moaned, arching to him. "Fuck me, Nico," Sören rasped.

"I want to make love to you," Dooku said.

With that, he proceeded to worship Sören's body the way Sören had worshiped him last night, kissing, licking, and caressing his way down, spending a long time on Sören's pierced nipples, aroused by how much Sören's nipples peaked, the sounds Sören made as Dooku teased them with his lips and tongue. Dooku looked into Sören's eyes as he took a nipple ring between his teeth and gave a gentle tug, his cock throbbing at Sören's wild cry of pleasure, throbbing more as his tongue took long, slow strokes over the nipple. His mouth and hands roamed down Sören's stomach and legs, and at last, to resume work on Sören's cock the way he had that morning. Sören didn't stop him this time.

"God, you're good," Sören panted. "You sure you've never done this before?"

"Quite sure." Dooku gave a few teasing licks at the head of Sören's cock. "I learned from you." Then Dooku took the ring in Sören's cock between his teeth and gave a gentle tug, and Sören whimpered, whimpering again as Dooku licked around the site of the piercing. "I also improvise, of course."

"Fuck..."

Dooku continued to suck Sören's cock, slowly, and then when he felt Sören getting close, he moved to Sören's balls, licking and sucking them until Sören was writhing, thrashing around, making inhuman noises. Dooku took Sören's cock back into his mouth and sucked for all he was worth until Sören grabbed his head and began thrusting into Dooku's mouth, uncontrollably. Dooku braced himself, massaging Sören's balls as he sucked, and at last Sören growled, "Nico, I'm gonna -"

_Yes, love._

Dooku was rewarded by the salty-sweet taste of Sören's cum, filling his mouth. He was surprised by how warm it was, and how much of it there was - so much some spilled out of his mouth and he felt like he would choke. He quickly swallowed it down, enjoying the taste of it, and gave Sören's cock a few last licks to lap up the rest of Sören's cum before he came up to kiss him, letting Sören taste himself, the evidence that he'd done this for him, given him this gift -

"I've never done this for anyone before," Dooku whispered. "Just you."

Sören stroked Dooku's face and whiskers. "Did you like it?"

"Very much." Dooku kissed him again. "I like giving as much as I like receiving, if not more." Dooku gave a little groan, rubbing his hard-on against Sören's thigh. "I love watching you lose control."

"You can watch it again," Sören said. He put Dooku's hand on his cock, which was already hard again.

They kissed once more, and in that kiss Sören rolled Dooku onto his back. Dooku looked up at Sören expectantly, and with trust in his eyes. Sören used the Force to bring over their bottle of lube, and Dooku watched as Sören used the Force to pour lube onto his cock, and then Sören's hands massaged Dooku's cock, working the lube until Dooku's cock was glistening and dripping with it.

"It's been awhile for me," Sören said. "I have toys but it's not the same as the real thing."

"All right," Dooku said.

Sören poured lube onto Dooku's right hand, and guided Dooku's fingers to his opening. Dooku felt shy, but his shyness quickly faded as his finger found something inside Sören that felt like a walnut, and Sören gasped as Dooku rubbed it.

"Oh god yes..." Sören shuddered. "Fuck..."

Dooku groaned approvingly and continued working his finger inside Sören, until Sören asked him to add a second finger. Dooku's index and middle fingers played in him, rubbing that sweet spot; Dooku's own cock grew harder at the sight of his fingers going in and out of Sören's channel, the sound of Sören's moans, the way Sören shivered and bucked against his fingers, knowing that would be his cock soon. At three fingers, Dooku's free hand reached up to caress Sören's body, not able to help himself - rubbing and plucking and pinching Sören's nipples, making Sören moan louder. At last Sören told him to stop. "I'm ready," Sören said.

Sören straddled Dooku's hips, and Dooku watched as Sören sank down on his cock, taking it in slowly. Through their Force bond Dooku could feel it was pinching and burning Sören - enough where Dooku almost told Sören to stop - but then his own pleasure took over at the silken heat of Sören enfolding him; he was all the way in. Sören rested there, breathing deeply.

"I'm all right," Sören said. He chuckled. "God, you're big."

"You feel so good," Dooku said.

"We haven't even gotten started yet."

Dooku took Sören's hands and looked into his eyes. "I'm inside you," he said. "We're... connected. We're one."

"Yes." Sören smiled, and squeezed Dooku's hands. "Welcome home."

With that, Sören began to ride him, slowly. The feel of Sören's ass wrapped around his cock was even more exquisite than Sören's mouth had felt. The heat of his body rivaled that of the hot spring, and the soft, sweet velvet of Sören's insides was delicious. As delicious was watching his cock plunge in and out of Sören's ass, watching Sören roll his hips, working his gorgeous, lithe body. Dooku's hands roamed over Sören's body, wanting to touch, feel, please; Sören's own hands roamed over Dooku, making him moan as Sören explored and played, learning his body and where he was sensitive.

Soon Sören was riding him faster, harder, and Sören's cock was in Dooku's right hand, stroking it in rhythm with Sören's hips. Dooku was thrusting into Sören now, matching his rhythm; Dooku's left hand continued to play over Sören's flesh. He loved playing with Sören's nipples, tugging the nipple rings, rubbing Sören's nipples with his thumb and index finger, producing wonderful moans. Sören's cock leaking precum was exciting to him, even moreso when Sören wiped some of it onto his fingers and stuck them in Dooku's mouth, for him to taste. Sucking precum off of Sören's fingers, Dooku took his hands and put them on Sören's hips and began to thrust into him harder. Sören grabbed Dooku's hips and held on for dear life, bucking like he was riding a wild bull.

"Fuck me, fuck me..." Sören let out a wordless cry.

Dooku was close, and it took him every ounce of restraint he had to hold back his orgasm, wanting Sören to climax first. They fucked at fever pitch, Dooku's balls slapping Sören's ass, the bed rocking against the wall, both of them lost in that wild animal rutting frenzy, needing to _mate_ , where nothing mattered but _sex_ , the whole world could be burning down and they would just want to fuck and fuck and never stop... as badly as they needed to come, they needed to _fuck_ , needed to keep that delicious stroking pleasure going as long as possible, so good -

"Nico..." Sören let out a little whimper. "Nico, I'm gonna come..."

"Yes, my love."

Sören gave a strangled sob and Dooku watched as Sören's cock shot an arc of cum over his stomach and chest. The sight of Sören coming on him, the sight of Sören's beautiful face in ecstasy, the feel of Sören's ass pulsing around him, was too much. "Sören," Dooku cried out as his orgasm took him, like a wave pulling him under, into darkness, into light. "Sören, my love..."

"Nico." Sören shot more cum over him. "Oh god, Nico... _Nico_..."

"Oh, _fuck_." Dooku shuddered, his fingers and toes curling as pleasure jolted through him again and again. Throbbing, throbbing, like the heart of the Force, a microcosm of the universe exploding into being, light and darkness and heat and _life_.

" _Elskan mín._ " Sören collapsed onto him, trembling.

Dooku wrapped his arms around Sören, held him close and tight. Their orgasm seemed to go on forever, and when the throbbing stopped and it was just melting bliss, Sören picked his head up, gave Dooku a smile like he was drunk or high, and then kissed him hard. They were spent, but the kiss held the promise of more passion, when they were recharged enough. Their tongues took a few last playful licks, both of them groaning at the sensuality of it, before Sören rested his head on Dooku's shoulder, looking up at him adoringly. Sören pet Dooku's face, and Dooku stroked Sören's curls.

"That was amazing," Sören whispered. "Thank you."

"Thank you." Dooku kissed the top of Sören's head, and then kissed Sören's forehead. "That was... as the youth says... awesome. But in the original sense of the word. Awe inspiring. Terrifying, even, but in a good way."

Sören laughed. "I could do this with you every night."

"I wish you would."

They kissed, and then Sören got up to get a fire going in the fireplace. He made them both hot chocolate with a kettle on the hot plate, and they drank hot chocolate and snuggled as they watched the snow coming down outside. Then they curled up together under the covers.

Entwined with his beloved, Dooku didn't fall asleep right away - he basked in a quiet sense of joy, a sense of hope that had been missing from his life for too long. He wanted to make this wonderful day last as long as possible. But soon enough, exhaustion overtook him, and he slept, wrapped in Sören's arms.


	15. Chapter 15

"Morning, sleepyhead."

Dooku woke up to a rain of soft, gentle kisses over his face, from his forehead down his nose, across his cheeks to his chin, and then at last, his lips. Instinctively, his lips parted, and he heard himself let out a groan as Sören's tongue slipped into his mouth and their tongues met, swirling, brushing, playing together.

"Mmmmm." Sören's hand wrapped around Dooku's hard cock and began to stroke, slowly. "How did you sleep?"

"Well," Dooku said. He opened his eyes and smiled at the love he saw in Sören's eyes. "The best I've slept in ages... well, that and last night."

"Good." Sören kissed the tip of Dooku's nose and then claimed his mouth again, harder this time. "I want you," Sören rasped before kissing him once more.

Shyly, Dooku reached for Sören's cock, standing at attention. He ran his fingers over it, walked up and down the shaft, caressed the head and sensitive frenum with his thumb, before he took Sören's cock into his fist, stroking in the same slow rhythm that Sören was stroking him. Then, feeling bolder, Dooku took the free hand that had been resting on Sören's ass, and stuck a finger inside him, probing that sweet spot.

Sören let out a little whimper and shuddered.

"You like that?" Dooku asked between kisses.

"God, yes." Sören let go of Dooku's cock and threw his arms around him, holding him tight as he began to work his hips, fucking the finger inside him.

Dooku started kissing down Sören's neck, licking and taking little nibbles, as he gripped Sören's cock more firmly and his finger rubbed at Sören's prostate faster and harder. When Dooku's kisses made their way to Sören's nipples, Sören clawed at him, panting, whining, moaning in Icelandic. After kissing, licking and suckling both of Sören's nipples, before he resumed work on the first one, Dooku looked up at Sören. The heat in Sören's gaze made his cock throb. Wordlessly, Dooku used the Force to bring over the bottle of lube they'd used last night.

Sören took Dooku's head in his hands and brought him up. "We need to wait before you fuck me again," Sören said. He gave a small, sheepish smile. "Last night was the first real cock I've had in months and I'm... a little sore."

"I understand." Dooku gave a small smile in return. "I don't want to hurt you."

"There are other things we can do." Sören kissed him, and then began kissing and licking Dooku's neck, making him groan as the electric heat throbbed straight to his cock. Sören's hand wrapped around Dooku's cock again, stroking it slowly, and Sören nibbled the place where Dooku's neck and jaw met before whispering, "Other ways you can be inside me."

Dooku didn't quite understand, and gave a small gasp of equal parts surprise and pleasure as Sören used the Force to pour lube all over both of their hard, eager cocks - cocks that were both dripping with precum. Sören then took both of their cocks in his fist and began stroking them together. It was a tight fit, as both cocks were large - almost the same size, Dooku's was longer and Sören's was thicker - and the tightness and silken friction made Dooku feverish with need. In heat for his beloved, he lowered his head to Sören's chest again, tugging on Sören's nipple ring with his teeth hard enough to make Sören cry out, then soothing Sören's nipple with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. Sören shuddered and his free hand raked Dooku's back; Sören crushed his mouth to Dooku's with a hungry growl.

Dooku laughed softly and kissed down Sören's neck to the other nipple, giving the nipple ring a more gentle tug before laving it with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth. One of Dooku's hands was on top of Sören's hand stroking their cocks together, and the other hand played with the nipple Dooku wasn't sucking, making Sören moan.

Sören's hand sped up on their cocks. The slippery lubricant made a soft squishing sound that added to the heat of the moment, making them both almost delirious with need. The rubbing felt more and more delicious and Dooku could feel his balls tightening, his cock aching for release but also aching to keep going, wanting to _feel_ Sören this way...

...and then Sören let go, taking his hand off their cocks. Dooku made a small cry of protest, and Sören put the index finger of his free hand to Dooku's lips, the finger trailing down his throat, down over the shoulder to tease and rub one of Dooku's nipples - god, he was so sensitive there - just before Sören lowered his hand to their cocks. Dooku watched as Sören guided their cocks so the heads were touching, rubbing together, and then Sören peeled back his foreskin just before rolling it up... covering the head of Dooku's cock as well as his own.

The feeling of Sören's foreskin wrapped around him, kissing his cock, was too much. Dooku cried out, and then again when he felt the small captive bead in the ring in Sören's cock push into his slit. He'd never put anything in there - never even dreamed of it - and just the tiny bead almost hurt, but as Sören began rubbing the place where their cocks met, and moving so the head of his cock was caressing the head of Dooku's cock, making the bead move back and forth, in and out... it was exquisite. The pleasure and the wild feeling of lust overcame him, taking him higher and higher. Dooku trembled from head to toe, desperately needing to come but holding back with every ounce of strength he had, never wanting the sweet sensation to stop, the intimacy, _so good._

Their eyes met, and Sören kissed him, and with that kiss Dooku climaxed, not able to help himself. That set off Sören's own climax, and the feeling of hot cum flooding Sören's foreskin, spending all over both of them, made Dooku's orgasm even more intense. Dooku couldn't even scream or cry out, could only gasp for breath, panting and shuddering through the endless throbbing. Sören let out a howl before they kissed again, their hands roaming over each other, every inch of their skin deliciously sensitive to touch, making the pleasure last.

Dooku's spent cock slipped out of Sören's foreskin, and they looked down at the mess they'd made and Sören laughed.

"We'll have to launder this," Sören said. "Ari will complain otherwise."

"Later," Dooku said, and pulled Sören close.

Holding Sören and being held, after sex, was as good as the sex itself. Dooku felt weightless, boneless, melting against Sören, his mind untroubled, lost in his own little world of Sören's beauty and the wonderful feeling of loving and being loved. They cuddled there, listening to each other's heartbeats, breathing each other's breath, as close as Dooku had ever been to anyone in the sixty-eight years of his life.

It was terrifying and exhilarating.

At last the sound of Dooku's stomach growling made Sören laugh and roll after him. Completely naked, Sören walked into the kitchen and began making breakfast for them - sausage and eggs. They ate in bed together, naked, and after breakfast Dooku washed the dishes, naked, marveling at the end that he hadn't even given any notice to being naked until then.

_Who am I?_

They showered together. Both men were too spent after such an intense orgasm to do anything sexual in the shower, but still lathered each other sensually, affectionately, and at the end spent awhile just holding each other as the water washed over them. Dooku started to cry, not understanding why - it was like a dam inside of him had broken, and too many feelings were rushing out all at once. Sören kissed his tears, pet him, rocked him in his arms, rocking him and rocking him until the tears subsided. When they got out of the shower together, Dooku watched Sören toweling off, admiring his lithe figure, the tattoos and exotic piercings.

"Did that hurt?" Dooku asked.

"What?" Sören asked. "I got a lot of work done, you'll have to be more specific."

"That." Dooku gestured to his own cock, then Sören's.

"Já, but not as bad as you might think," Sören said. "I found my nipple piercings a bit more painful. To be honest, it hurt the most to get my ears done because that was when I was still a teenager and didn't know much about piercings, and I got it done with a piercing gun rather than a needle."

Dooku raised an eyebrow. Then he cleared his throat and said, "I know you got the tattoos done to cover up scars... what about the piercings?"

Sören gave a throaty laugh. "It's not more obvious? I keep forgetting you're still practically a virgin."

Dooku flushed.

Sören went on, "Stimulation." He gestured to his cock piercing. "I've been told by past partners that this really..." He trailed off and looked down, sheepish. "Sorry, I shouldn't be talking about past experiences."

"I know you have a sexual history," Dooku said, "so you don't need to pretend with me that you don't. And you mean...?" Dooku's flush deepened, and he felt a bit of apprehension as well as excitement at what was being implied.

Sören nodded. "I'm versatile." When he saw Dooku's look of confusion, he said, "I'm not... strictly... a bottom."

It took Dooku a moment to realize what Sören meant, and he flushed all over again. The thought of Sören taking him that way was both arousing and intimidating all at once. Sensing Dooku's discomfort, Sören walked out of the steamy bathroom and began getting changed. After he and Dooku were both dressed, they stripped the bed together and put on fresh sheets and blankets, with a pile that they would bring to the local laundromat.

"Do you have any plans for us today?" Dooku asked Sören.

"I do," Sören said. "And then I think we could go back to London the day after tomorrow, if that works for you?"

Dooku nodded; he missed his cat.

"So tomorrow we'll go back to Reykjavik," Sören said. "But in the meantime, today, I have a few things to show you."

Their first stop was the local laundromat, and while their wash was going, Sören took them on another tour of Akureyri. This time they went to Akureyrarkirkja church - Sören took pictures and did some sketching, keen on the architecture - and then the large statue of Helgi and Þórunn, the first settlers of Eyjafjörður. Sören took pictures of the view-dial near the statue, and did some sketching of that as well.

Then it was time to visit Grýla and Leppalúði, the parents of the Yule Lads, right in the city center. Sören had Dooku take some pictures of him posing with the trolls, and then Sören insisted on taking pictures of Dooku posing with the trolls - Dooku felt ridiculous, but obliged him - and then Sören took selfies of the two of them together with the trolls. In one of the photos Sören reached an arm around Dooku and made "bunny ears" with his fingers above the back of Dooku's head, and when Dooku saw the finished product he glared at Sören, which made Sören laugh even harder.

"You're so cute," Sören said, kissing the tip of Dooku's nose.

"I am not cute."

The photo opportunity with Grýla and Leppalúði put Sören in the mood to take Dooku to the Christmas House, which was a short drive out of Akureyri. The kitschy red house covered with Christmas decorations nonetheless looked charming in the winter landscape, though Grýla was less charming, in a cave. Sören and Dooku spent awhile browsing the decorations and candy, and Sören spent some money on both, preparing for Christmas in London with his family visiting.

On the drive back from the Christmas House, Sören looked wistful and a bit sad. Sensing the change in mood, Dooku rubbed Sören's knee. "Are you all right?" Dooku asked.

Sören nodded. "Christmas was always a difficult time for us, because Aunt Katrín and Uncle Einar did more drinking during the holidays. And Christmas is such a happy time in Iceland, so we had to pretend at school that we were happy and nothing was wrong. My siblings and cousin and I tried to make up for it, we made each other secret presents and went on a scavenger hunt to find them." Sören gave a small, wistful smile. "I got into drawing when I was a kid and I did sketches for them on Christmas. One year I made Dagnýr a little comic book with superheroes in it, made some shitty fanfic story about them that's really embarrassing now that I'm not twelve anymore. He loved it, though. He still has it."

Dooku felt the urge to grab Sören and pull him close, but couldn't because Sören was driving.

"The last couple of Christmases have been sad with me being in London and Dagnýr being in Canada," Sören said. "Frankie got me through even though we didn't have much money to get each other presents or decorate the apartment. You have no idea how much it means to us to invite all of us to be together this year."

Though Dooku had found Sören's selection in Christmas decorations somewhat garish, he would gladly go back to the Christmas House and buy the entire lot if he could make Sören smile the way Sören was smiling now. He felt determined to give the younger man the best Christmas he'd ever had.

After the Christmas House they returned to the laundromat to put their wash in the dryer, and then returned to the cabin for a short visit to decide if they were eating there or going out to dinner - the verdict was to go out to eat. Dooku also decided to call Qui-Gon and check on Dragos, and then Sören called Frankie while Dooku went online and bought them plane tickets to go back to London in two days.

Once Sören got off the phone, they got back in the car and went out for fish and chips - reminiscent of their first outing together, after meeting in the gallery. The quality of local Icelandic seafood made the meal seem less humble, somehow. After dinner they picked up their laundry and brought it back to the cabin, and then Sören said, "I have something else to show you."

It was already dark - Dooku once again marveled at the long winter nights. Sören drove for approximately forty minutes out of Akureyri, until they came to the Goðafoss, one of the most famous waterfalls in Iceland. Admission was free, and it didn't take much walking.

It was one thing to see pictures of the Goðafoss and another thing to see it in person. The stark winter landscape and frozen icicles made the waterfall look even more powerful. Sören and Dooku just sat, taking it all in, holding hands in reverent silence.

At last, the northern lights began to play across the sky, as they had in the Nature Baths at Mývatn the night before. This time they seemed even more intense, covering more of the sky, glowing stronger than before - a riot of green, violet, and blue, weaving together into different patterns. Sometimes green was the more dominant color, sometimes violet, sometimes teal or cyan, sometimes two together with little splashes of the third. Sometimes the green was closer to yellow-green and the violet closer to pink, sometimes the green was more of a deep forest color. It was more impressive than any fireworks display Dooku had ever witnessed - especially for the way the colors reflected in the waterfall pool, and the way the aurora sometimes parted to show all of the hundreds of millions of stars in the night sky. It took Dooku's breath away, and brought tears to his eyes. He could feel Sören's awe as well, and felt closer to him for sharing this magic with him.

After the aurora had been continuing its dance for awhile, Sören whispered, "When I first learned to drive, I'd drive out here a lot."

"I can see why."

Sören nodded. "Watching the waterfall, always going... reminds me that life goes on, somehow. Including, and especially, in the middle of winter. It's frozen all around, but the waterfall itself doesn't freeze over, it keeps flowing. And it's..." Sören struggled to find words for what he was feeling, in English. "The Force is strong here."

"Indeed," Dooku said, and squeezed Sören's gloved hand. "This is what Yodha would refer to as a Force Nexus. A place where the Force is much more powerful."

As it was nighttime in November, there weren't other visitors around - Sören looked around carefully before he got up. He used the Force, then, to rise a foot off the ground, and began to walk on the air. After a moment, Dooku did as well, moving over to Sören, and pulled him into his arms. They used the Force to continue to defy gravity, kissing as they sailed over the Goðafoss, from one side to the other. Over the middle of the Goðafoss they pulled apart briefly for air, to look into each other's eyes and just laugh at the good feeling of being together, being _alive_ , sharing in the wonder of this place, this moment. They nuzzled and kissed again, more deeply, till they reached the other side of the Goðafoss. Then they sailed back across the waterfall, kissing, necking, petting, and tumbled softly to the ground, in a snowbank, laughing, out of breath.

Another kiss, and Dooku's mood sobered. "I love you," he said, feeling a lump in his throat, a tightness in his chest.

He saw the tears in Sören's eyes as he replied, "I love you too," reaching up to stroke Dooku's face.

Dooku took Sören's gloved hand and kissed it, then stood up, and pulled Sören up off the ground. Sören wrapped his arms around Dooku's waist and squeezed, and they nuzzled before one last kiss, then getting back into the jeep.

The northern lights continued to electrify the sky on the ride home - driving through the winter landscape as the aurora glowed was a treat in and of itself. When they got back to the fjord and Svalbarðseyri, the view of the northern lights over the small wintry village made Dooku tear up again. The feeling of awe, and having someone to share this with, intensified, and as soon as they made it inside the front door they began quickly shedding their clothing, not able to undress each other quickly enough, kissing feverishly.

Sören ran to the bathroom to prepare himself, and when he came out Dooku was laying on the bed, gently stroking himself. Sören gave him a hungry look and then pounced onto Dooku with a growl, nipping his lower lip before kissing him hard. Dooku laughed into the kiss and kissed Sören back, harder; in the kiss, Dooku rolled Sören onto his back.

Sören looked up at Dooku expectantly, and Dooku leaned in to kiss Sören again and again, and then started to kiss Sören's neck, his cock throbbing at Sören's moans and sighs. He spent a long time licking, suckling and nibbling each of Sören's nipples, going back and forth between them, loving the way they peaked beneath his tongue, the way Sören arched to him, nails digging into his skin, moaning, panting, whimpering. He kissed and licked Sören's chest and stomach, caressed and kissed and licked and nibbled one creamy thigh, tongue-bathed the light dusting of dark hair on Sören's calf, and then, on a whim, kissed Sören's feet. He licked and sucked every single one of Sören's toes, licked the arch of Sören's feet, rubbed them, making Sören moan louder. Then Dooku started his way up the other leg, finding Sören was sensitive behind the knee, his inner thighs were exquisitely sensitive, and his hip as well. At last Dooku lingered at Sören's dark bush, burying his nose in the curls, breathing in his lover's scent. Their eyes met as Dooku took Sören into his mouth, slowly.

There was that gag reflex again, but Dooku managed to relax and suck, eyes riveted on Sören's responses, his own cock throbbing, aching at the feel of Sören's beautiful cock in his mouth, the taste of his musk and precum, and every moan and twitch and gasp and shiver. Gently, Dooku played with Sören's balls, giving a firmer touch when he took Sören's cock out of his mouth and just licked at it, teasingly. When he lowered his head to Sören's balls to lick and suck them, Sören made the most wonderful little whimpers, and it was taking Dooku all of his restraint to not just take Sören right then - he wanted to worship Sören's body as long as possible, to express with his hands and mouth what he could not in words.

Before Dooku could take Sören's cock in his mouth again, Sören panted, "Would you lick my arse?"

Dooku raised his eyebrows.

Even though Dooku's cock had been up there last night, and Dooku had been giving Sören oral pleasure, it had never occurred to Dooku that his tongue could go inside Sören as well. He hesitated for a moment - he knew Sören had spent some time cleaning himself out in the bathroom, but he was still concerned about hygiene. And yet, the heat and need in Sören's eyes made his cock throb again, and a moment later he dipped his tongue into Sören's channel. When his tongue found Sören's prostate he began to rub his tongue the way he'd worked his fingers, and Sören arched his back and howled, clutching Dooku's head.

Sören tasted clean - musky, earthy, but clean. Sweetness and spice. Dooku found himself stroking his own cock as he ate Sören's ass for the first time, aroused by the lewdness of the act, the primal, animal lust that overcame them both, willing to throw aside all dignity and just do whatever felt good. This wasn't like him at all, and yet, it made him feel alive, made him feel _hunger for life_ , all that he'd been missing out on. He'd denied himself the forbidden fruit for so long, and now he wanted the entire damn tree. Tongue-fucking Sören's ass made his cock ache, made him drip precum, especially when Sören got so worked up he started begging to be fucked, like an animal in heat.

Dooku teased him for quite awhile, enjoying himself, even as badly as he ached for release himself. At last Sören grabbed Dooku's head and screamed, "WOULD YOU JUST FUCKING FUCK ME RIGHT FUCKING NOW," and the near-fury in his voice amused and aroused Dooku all at once. Laughing softly, he took a few last teasing licks at Sören's cock - now very, very wet with leaking precum. He made a show of lapping up Sören's precum, savoring the taste of him, before coming up to kiss Sören, letting him taste himself.

With a growl, Sören used the Force to bring over the bottle of lube, poured it all over Dooku's cock, and then poured it over and into his ass. Sören's legs were spread, a pillow underneath him, tilting his hips. Dooku guided the tip of his cock to Sören's opening and began to push in, slowly. Sören gasped at the initial discomfort, then took deep breaths as Dooku pushed past the tight ring, pushing until he was all the way inside.

Their hands met, and squeezed, and then Dooku pulled one of his hands out of Sören's to stroke his face, as he looked into Sören's eyes. "I love you," he said softly.

" _Ég elska þig þar til andinn minn fer frá þessum heimi._ " Sören wrapped his arms around Dooku, and kissed him deeply, and as they kissed, Dooku pulled back, and pushed in again, slowly.

Dooku kept the pace slow for as long as he could. Their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's breath, they kissed and kissed to the rhythm of slow, sensuous thrusts. Sören's hands roamed over Dooku's back and ass, and sometimes played over Dooku's chest, threading through the chest hair, occasionally stealing to rub and tease a nipple. Dooku kept a hand on Sören's cock, and the other hand caressed every inch of Sören's flesh that he could reach, wanting to memorize Sören's body with his fingers, wanting Sören to feel his love with every touch.

Slowly. Gently. Their hips rolled together, they moaned and sighed together. Dooku never wanted this to end, feeling Sören's silken heat wrapped around him - feeling Sören, himself, welcoming him into the most intimate, vulnerable part of him, trusting him, surrendering to him, as he too was surrendering himself, letting himself come home again and again, letting himself be _held_ in the truest way.

But as much as they both wanted it to last, passion overcame them, lust and desire and pure, raw sexual need. Sören's arms and legs wrapped around Dooku as he began to thrust harder, faster, and Sören bucked against him, matching Dooku's rhythm. Sören whimpered and Dooku grunted and groaned, not able to help himself - it felt too good. Soon Dooku was pounding into him with abandon, and Sören worked his hips and ass back at him, swearing in Icelandic, frantically clawing Dooku's back and ass. Dooku kissed Sören's neck, nibbled on it, and in the final moments they kissed, hard, crying out into the kiss at the sweet friction, the slap of their flesh, the hot, needy _fuck_ that they both desperately craved.

Sören looked almost panicked in his need, gasping, eyes searching Dooku's. Dooku stroked Sören's face again before kissing him, and his hand worked Sören's cock into a frenzy - rattling it - and there was a moment when Sören's mouth flew open and he couldn't make any sound at all, until a wail erupted, as his cock spurted all over Dooku's stomach and chest. The sight and sound of Sören coming - the feel of Sören contracting around him - set off Dooku's own climax, one, two, three thrusts and it was all liquid heat, light, melting into Sören, melting into the Force itself, pleasure cascading like the falls.

For a moment their heartbeats were the center of the universe, and two hearts beat as one, the pleasure across their Force bond so intense that they didn't know where one ended and the other began. Then they came back to themselves, panting, trembling in each other's arms... laughing, an explosion of joy.

_

They drove back to Reykjavik the next day, so they wouldn't have to drive or fly there the day of their departure. Sören returned the cabin key to Ari at his yoga studio, and Ari encouraged Sören and Dooku to stay for awhile and take a class. It was Sören's turn to feel ridiculous now, and Sören played it up for laughs, inventing comical poses that weren't traditional at all such as "the bunny rabbit" and "the Batman" and, worst of all, "the flamingo".

Ari took Sören and Dooku out for dinner, and Margrét joined them. The dinner was at a restaurant that served more traditional Icelandic fare - Dooku decided to not be adventurous and order the infamous hákarl, as it was enough to see a sheep's head delivered at a nearby table. He did however concede to drink some Brennivín, enough that he was glad Ari was driving them back to the hotel.

Margrét came along for the ride, and Margrét suggested they all go for a swim in the hotel's heated pool. Dooku felt self-conscious about people seeing his body again, and Margrét snapped, "Listen, if I'm willing to let people see me in a bathing suit, with my original plumbing creating a bulge and all, you can go swimming with us." Dooku conceded, to Sören's delight, and Dooku had enough to drink that he managed to relax in the pool, which felt quite nice after the bitter cold air.

Sören and Margrét proceeded to roughhouse in the pool, splashing each other and then attempting to dunk each other - at one point Margrét dipped underwater when Sören had his back turned, and Sören shrieked as Margrét grabbed his toe and began to tickle his foot underwater, before bobbing up to the surface to spit water in Sören's face like a fish. Ari laughed and rolled his eyes, and Sören swam to hide behind Ari, until Margrét made their cousin get involved in the battle as well, splashing and dunking him. Finally Ari dunked both Sören and Margrét simultaneously, giving a smug smile until Sören and Margrét double-teamed and grabbed Ari's waist and began tickling him.

It got late enough that Margrét panicked a bit, having to get back to the bar. The four changed, and then in the hotel lobby Margrét and Sören clung to each other, crying.

"I'm going to miss you," Sören choked through his tears.

"I always miss you," Margrét said.

Dooku cleared his throat and walked over to them. Margrét took his hand as if to shake it, but Dooku surprised himself and Margrét both by taking his hand out of hers and pulling Margrét in for a hug, holding her tightly. He had no words to express his grief for what she'd gone through, and his admiration for the strong, confident woman she'd become, who served as an inspiration to her younger, sensitive brother. Margrét gave Dooku a bear hug, and then, with a mischievous grin on her face, put Dooku in a headlock and gave him a noogie the way she did to Sören. Sören cackled and got a photo of the event before it was over, which made Dooku death glare, making Sören laugh even harder.

"You know," Dooku said in the elevator going up to their suite, "I could swat your bottom."

"Promises, promises." Sören attempted a lascivious wink and failed, which was oddly adorable.

However, both Dooku and Sören had too much Brennivín - Dooku worried about a hangover the next day, and _almost_ regretted it. They climbed right into bed to cuddle for awhile, enjoying the feeling of being cozy together in each other's arms before they fell asleep.

The morning was spent rushing around doing last-minute packing before heading to the airport. They had an hour after they got to their gate, and Sören had them take a tour to the gift shop, where they bought kitschy tourist gifts for Frankie, Qui, and Obi. Then they had a small breakfast as they waited in the final minutes to board their flight.

Qui called when they had gotten in their seats, and Dooku decided to take the call before it was time to shut off his cell phone for the flight. He confirmed what time they'd been flying in, and spoke to Dragos, who meowed at the sound of his voice.

Dooku and Sören were seated by themselves, though there were people in front and behind them. Sören got nervous flying, and produced a blanket to wrap up and comfort himself with, which Dooku found adorable. He took Sören's hand through takeoff, and once they were in the air, Sören relaxed a bit and leaned in to Dooku.

Dooku attempted to meditate, but he kept being distracted by how sweet and innocent and utterly _delectable_ Sören looked. The call from Qui had reminded him of their first night in Iceland when Qui had asked if Dooku had joined the Mile High Club, and Dooku didn't know what that was.

"Sören?" Dooku asked.

Sören opened his eyes and looked over at Dooku. "Hm?"

Dooku dropped his voice to a whisper. "What's the Mile High Club?"

Sören blinked slowly, then he gave Dooku a naughty grin. Sören unwrapped the blanket from around himself, and spread it over both of them to share it; it was a big blanket and fell past their knees. Dooku felt Sören reach under the blanket, to fumble with his trousers, and gasped as Sören reached into his boxer-briefs. The feel of Sören's hand wrapped around his cock made him go hard instantly.

Soon Dooku followed suit, stroking Sören as Sören stroked him. They nuzzled and kissed, and had to stifle their moans as they worked each other up. At the moment of truth they kissed deeply, coming together. On impulse, Dooku brought his cum-soaked fingers up out of the blanket to Sören's mouth, who sucked his fingers as he looked into Dooku's eyes, and Dooku groaned, not able to help it, feeling another shock wave hit him.

They adjusted their trousers and took a nap together for the remainder of the flight. They were woken up by the notification to put on their seatbelts for landing. Sören peeled back the blankets and discretely wiped any stains with a moist towelette, and then leaned into Dooku's chest to be petted as the plane began to land.

Dooku picked his car up at the parking station. Their first stop was Qui and Obi's house, to retrieve Dragos, who proceeded to meow constantly and headbutt Dooku over and over again. Qui and Obi insisted Dooku and Sören stay for dinner with them, which was welcome being they were back on a later time zone; Qui and Obi enjoyed hearing about Iceland and seeing Sören's pictures - especially the more ridiculous ones involving Dooku - and appreciated the gifts. Dooku also invited them for Christmas, and Qui's response was to pull Dooku out of his seat and give him a big hug, the two men crying together a little, which in turn made Sören and Obi cry, joining them in a group hug, until Dragos and the other cats circled around them, meowing, demanding affection. Once Dooku was seated again, Dragos climbed on Dooku and stood up, paws on Dooku's chest, licking the tears from Dooku's face, making Sören laugh and take another photo. Sören continued laughing as Dooku glared at him, and took more photos. Qui stuck his head in another photo, holding a sign that said WANKER with an arrow pointing at Dooku, making Sören double over.

After the meal, Dooku and Sören brought Dragos in the cat carrier to the car; Dragos meowed plaintively as the car took off, and eventually calmed down, resigned to the trip. Dooku looked at Sören, and Sören looked at him - they could go to Bermondsey or Greenwich.

"Where to?" Dooku asked.

"Can I spend the night with you?" Sören asked.

Dooku nodded, and then he looked down at his steering wheel, and out at the road. He cleared his throat and said, "I'd like you to spend every night with me, from now on... if you want to."

"You mean, us living together?"

Dooku nodded again. His heart raced, feeling nervous about it.

"Wow, that escalated quickly," Sören said.

Dooku's heart sank. _No, no, no..._ He worried that he was going to be rejected now, that Sören would think they were moving too fast...

"But it feels right." At the light, Sören reached in and gave Dooku a quick kiss. "I'd like that, Nico."

"Thank you." Dooku blinked back tears, wanting to pull the car over, leap out of the car, and yell.

They made it inside the foyer to let Dragos out of the carrier, Dooku disappeared into the kitchen to put out food and water for the cat, and then came back into the foyer and they helped each other out of their trousers, with Sören using the Force to take out their bottle of lube, before Dooku picked up Sören - Sören's legs wrapped around his waist - and pushed him up against the foyer wall and took him hard. Sören held onto Dooku for dear life, riding Dooku's cock as Dooku drove into him fast and furious. Soon Sören was trembling so much Dooku feared Sören would fall off, and grabbed Sören more tightly. Kissing, they pounded their way into a scorching, blinding orgasm, the two of them yelling loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and Dooku not caring.

Dooku almost fell over from the power of his climax, but the two of them used the Force to steady each other, and when Dooku regained his equilibrium he threw Sören over his shoulder and carried him back to his bedroom - their bedroom, now - caveman-style. Sören climbed onto the bed, removing the last of his clothing, and got on his hands and knees, sticking his ass out at Dooku. Instinctively, Dooku stripped down and climbed on behind Sören, kneeling behind him, reaching to grab Sören's hair as he pushed into him. He gave a few slow thrusts to tease them both, and then fucked Sören harder this time, as Sören worked his ass against Dooku's hips begging for more, begging to be fucked hard. Dooku let pure animal need take over, loving how completely lost he was in his lust for Sören, the exhilarating feeling of freedom, losing control.

After their second orgasm they were spent, and curled up together, cuddling. Dooku smiled at Sören and pet his curls, his face, his beard, and Sören stroked Dooku's face and whiskers, and they nuzzled and kissed softly. Just before Dooku could fall asleep like that, he got up to make sure Dragos had enough food and water for the night, and then stumbled back into bed - back into warmth, back into the magic cocoon of Sören's arms.

"I can take you to get your things, tomorrow or sometime over the weekend," Dooku said, petting Sören some more.

Sören nodded slowly. "I hope Frankie won't be mad but I think she saw this coming." Sören raised an eyebrow. "It's OK if she comes to visit me here, right?"

Dooku nodded.

"Good." Sören kissed the tip of Dooku's nose. "She's gonna need some reassurance that I'm still a part of her life."

"That's very sweet of you." Dooku sighed happily. "You're a good man, Sören."

"I'm your man."

"Yes, you are." Dooku smiled.

It still felt so strange, but wonderful... just like Sören himself.


	16. Chapter 16

Frankie helped Sören move what he could of his meager belongings into Dooku's house in Bermondsey - some of the furniture, such as the mattress on a box spring that served as a bed, had come with the flat and was supposed to stay there. But Sören's clothing, art supplies, and things like books and stuffed animals all piled into Dooku's car and the car of Frankie's aunt, who employed Sören and Frankie at the coffee shop below their flat. After everything was brought over, Dooku invited Frankie and her aunt in for tea, which turned into cooking dinner for all four of them; Frankie's aunt insisted on helping in the kitchen, making delicious chicken. Dooku hadn't seen much of Frankie prior to this and didn't know much about her apart from knowing she'd asked Sören for money and seemed rather ill-mannered, but over tea and dinner it became apparent that Frankie and Sören were very close for a reason, Frankie was affectionate and even somewhat protective of him, and Sören also seemed the same way with her.

Dooku finally learned the story of how Frankie and Sören met - they had both been at a combination art show and punk concert, and one of the men in the audience had touched Frankie inappropriately. Sören, nearby, sprang to her defense, even though Frankie was capable of defending herself. Frankie helped Sören nurse a black eye, and when she took him home, she found out "home" was a rather appalling living situation - renting a room in a seedier part of London, and his landlord had been making unwanted advanced towards him. It happened that Frankie was between roommates and her aunt needed help at the coffee shop, so Sören had packed up his things right then and there. "We rescued each other," Sören said, with Frankie nodding. Frankie had been an invaluable source of support for Sören during and immediately after an abusive relationship, and had strongly encouraged Sören to take Leja up on her offer of showcasing his art instead of hiding away due to anxiety. "He didn't even want to go to that art show," Frankie said, "and I made him go."

Dooku raised an eyebrow. "We wouldn't have met if he hadn't gone. So I guess I owe you one."

"No, you don't." Frankie pulled out a bill from her wallet. "Here." She pressed a hundred-pound note into Dooku's hand. Dooku was stunned; he hadn't expected to ever be paid back for the money he'd given Frankie.

When Frankie's aunt decided it was time to go back, and Frankie with her, Frankie and Sören lingered, hugging, and Dooku surprised himself by hugging the young woman with the pink mohawk and many facial piercings and tattoos, as well.

_

 

Despite Dooku's eagerness to share his home and his life with Sören, it was still a bit of an adjustment after living alone his whole life.

One of the adjustments that needed to be made was space for Sören to paint. After some discussion, Dooku decided to allow Sören use of the meditation room for such a purpose - he could feel Sören connecting with the Living Force when he painted, and indeed, Sören painting in the meditation room made the Force energy there stronger, which benefited Dooku's own meditation practice.

Dooku encouraged Sören to meditate with him, which Sören was fairly reluctant about, not being one for schedules outside of his job, but when Sören saw it would make Dooku happy he went along with it, and one side effect of the two meditating together was it increased their Force bond in ways that made sex particularly potent after meditation.

Having regular sex was another new experience for Dooku. If Sören got out of work before he did, Sören would frequently greet Dooku at the door with a passionate kiss, slamming him up against the wall and dropping down on his knees to undo Dooku's trousers and give him a "welcome home" blowjob. They'd often start their day with a quick romp before they had to go to work, and finish the night with meditation, showering together, and then slow, gentle, sensual lovemaking. Dooku was surprised by his ability to get hard and stay hard at his age, and even more surprised at how much regular sex made a difference in his mood. He was sleeping better and feeling less agitated, and definitely less depressed.

Sören made him feel young again.

But it was sometimes awkward - Dooku was used to a certain amount of manners and decorum, coming from an aristocratic background; Sören came from Icelandic farmer stock and had no qualms about using a toothpick in front of others, or burping, or farting, or scratching himself. Sören didn't know what glasses were for which kinds of wine, and Sören's experience with making tea was from a bag rather than the proper English way. He preferred finger food to eating with utensils, and ate rather quickly, messily and noisily. Sören was courteous in the ways that mattered, for example if Dooku cooked, Sören would do the dishes, and Sören did other chores without being asked, such as changing the catbox. Still, living with him made it obvious they were from two different worlds, and it was something Dooku had to get used to.

 

_

 

After they had been living together for approximately a week and a half, Sören's birthday arrived. Sören still had to work on his birthday. Dooku decided to take a half-day without telling Sören, so he could prepare, wanting to surprise him with a little celebration and gifts. He'd teased a few pieces of information out of Sören - such as knowing Sören liked chocolate cake. Dooku could have easily bought one from a bakery, but he elected to make a cake himself, knowing Sören would appreciate the effort more, so his first order of business upon arriving home was baking.

When the cake had been cooled and frosted, Dooku took a trip to pick up Sören's birthday presents. His first stop was at an art supply store, where he purchased a half-dozen canvases, and a more high-end set of oil paints and set of brushes. He was a bit surprised by how costly such supplies were - Sören's dedication to his art was all the more impressive to him now, knowing the kind of money Sören made, and lacked.

After the art supplies, Dooku went to buy a scooter that he'd been looking at on his way home from work. After several conversations with Sören about the issue of driving, it had come out that Sören's aversion to driving in the United Kingdom was due to the steering wheel and roads both being "on the wrong side", which gave him spatial issues, and he would drive a less-confusing vehicle like a scooter if he could afford one, which of course he couldn't as a "starving artist" working as a barista. Dooku was perfectly willing to drive Sören anywhere he needed or wanted to go, and he wouldn't stand in Sören's way about taking the Tube. But he wanted Sören to be able to have options, if he felt like visiting Frankie at Frankie's flat while Dooku attended to after-hours work, or anything else. Dooku also thought it would be nice for the two of them to go on bike trips together during the warmer months. Dooku knew Sören's taste tended towards the color black, so he went with a black Vespa Sprint. It wasn't cheap at all, but he wanted to spoil Sören. He paid and arranged for the scooter to be delivered to his home later that evening, when Sören would be home from work, before the guests came.

The third gift was one that money could not buy, and would be given after the celebration. Dooku was still a bit nervous about it, but he'd been thinking of it since their return from Iceland, and it felt right.

Though Dooku had made a birthday cake himself, he had arranged to have dinner catered for himself and Sören and their guests. He'd placed an order with a catering service earlier that morning, and it was ready to pick up - Dooku had opted to pick it up himself rather than have it delivered and brought in and have another interruption. So he put the boxes of food into the trunk of his car, and went to his last destination, to pick up Sören.

In the time that Dooku and Sören had been seeing each other, Dooku had never actually been inside the coffee shop where Sören worked. He was about a half-hour early, and had intended to sit at a table, drink coffee, and read until Sören's shift was up.

He hadn't anticipated the place being so packed. The parking stall in front of the building was taken, and the parking lot across from the coffee shop was full. Dooku had to park down the street, in the parking lot of an auto parts company, and walk a block to the coffee shop. When he got in, there was a line to the door. Two lines, in fact - Sören and Frankie were both taking orders up front.

Sören had been at work since seven in the morning, and there was a tired edge to his voice, but he still managed to smile and be pleasant to each customer, including the ones who were impatient and sharp with him for having to wait, even though it was hardly his fault. Dooku admired Sören's courtesy, and the way he held himself together when Dooku could feel the anxiety across their Force bond.

At last it was Dooku's turn.

"What can I get for you, sir?" Sören asked, with a small, mischievous smile, his eyes twinkling.

"I would like a small cappucino, with cinnamon and extra whipped cream."

"For here or to go?"

"For here," Dooku said. As full as the coffee shop was, there were at least a few available tables.

Sören rang it up, gave him back his change, and handed him a ticket. "I'll bring you your order shortly."

Dooku saw the tip jar and put in a substantial tip, one that made Sören's eyebrows go up. Frankie, who had just finished the last of her rush, cackled as she headed off to the kitchen.

Dooku took a seat, opened up his laptop, and started reading on his latest case. He got enough into it that he was actually startled when Sören came by a few minutes later with the cup of coffee.

"Thank you," Dooku said.

"My pleasure." Sören attempted to wink, failing at it as usual, which made Dooku smile and laugh.

Dooku looked at the time, then. "I came to pick you up. Your shift ends in five minutes, yes?"

Sören nodded. "Já. I can probably clock out now -"

"Hey, this isn't what I bloody ordered!" came a nasal woman's voice from across the coffee shop.

Sören held up an index finger and walked over to the woman's table. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"I ordered a hazelnut latte and this isn't hazelnut," the woman yelled.

Sören checked the receipt and said, "It says hazelnut on your order, and I remember pouring you a hazelnut coffee in the kitchen - it's the only hazelnut I've done in the last forty-five minutes - but it's possible it may have gotten mixed up, I'll get you another."

The woman snorted as Sören made his way to the kitchen and yelled, "Bloody foreigners."

Dooku cringed, and also felt a sharp stab of anger on Sören's behalf. Sören returned a minute later with the replacement coffee, and a small wrapped cinnamon bun - "Free, for my mistake," Sören said.

"Fucking immigrants," the woman said as Sören set down the coffee and cinnamon bun. "England's being fucking overrun with them. You can't even work a simple barista job, you should go back to wherever it fucking is you bloody came from."

Sören smiled politely - Dooku could tell it was taking Sören every ounce of restraint he had to not snap back at the woman; Dooku himself felt like yelling at the ignorant, rude bitch - and Sören said, simply, "Very sorry. Enjoy your coffee and your pastry, have a nice day." Then he hurried off to the kitchen.

The woman stood up then, all of a sudden. She tucked the cinnamon bun into her purse and slung it over her shoulder, and started walking towards the door with a coffee in each hand. Dooku then realized, in the Force, that Sören hadn't botched the order at all - the woman was scamming him to get a free second cup of coffee and maybe something else out of it. Dooku didn't like that, and he thought about using the Force to make the woman spill coffee on herself, then his legal instincts kicked in - she seemed like the type who'd sue for spilling hot coffee on herself or slipping on a wet floor - so he held back.

A few minutes later Sören came out of the kitchen, and he said to Dooku, "We can go."

Dooku put his laptop back in his briefcase, and carried what was left of his capuccino out the door, leading Sören down the street to the auto parts store. He felt a bit bad about making Sören have to walk, even though it was a block, since Sören had been on his feet all day and was very obviously tired and stressed out. Once they were in the car, before Dooku started the engine, he leaned in to give Sören a hug and a kiss.

"Thank you," Sören said. "I needed that."

"I thought about saying something and didn't want to make it worse," Dooku said. He gave a disgusted snort as he started the car and backed out of the parking lot. "She took both coffees out of there."

Sören rolled his eyes. "A couple of this morning's customers make her look tame."

"I don't know how you do it."

"I don't either, some days." Sören sighed. "It's the price I pay for giving my life to my art. I can't do that and something like what you do."

"It still bothers me," Dooku said. "You deserve better than to be treated like that. Especially on your birthday."

Sören laughed and patted Dooku's knee. "So that's why you came to pick me up."

"Well yes... and I thought it was overdue to see that part of your life."

Now it was Sören's turn to snort. "There's hardly anything special or mysterious about a coffee shop, Nico."

"It's still a different world to me," Dooku said. "I don't like the poverty you've lived in, or the people you've had to deal with - again, you deserve better - but nonetheless, you interest me."

"You are so fucking posh it hurts," Sören said. "Only someone as posh as you would say you find this shit 'interesting'. Are you Margaret Sodding Mead now and I'm some noble savage?"

"No..." Dooku felt a bit sheepish. "But everything you do - everything that makes you who you are, every part of your life - is important to me."

Sören sighed. Dooku could sense via their Force bond that he felt a little guilty for his response. The patting Dooku's knee turned into rubbing. "I'm sorry, Nico. It's been a rough day."

"I know." Dooku smiled. "But hopefully I can make the rest of the day better for you."

Sören squinted suspiciously. "Nico. _What did you do._ "

Dooku just chuckled.

" _Nico._ You better not have gone all out for me."

When they arrived at Dooku's house, Dooku and Sören got out of the car and Dooku told Sören, "You go on inside. I need to bring some things in."

"Why can't I help you carry them in?"

"Because you can't." Dooku gestured at the front door. "On with you." He used the Force to smack Sören's bottom without touching it, which got a sassy butt wiggle in response - Dooku felt his cock stirring at that - and Dooku forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

Since he couldn't levitate objects outside without running the risk of being seen by his neighbors, it took Dooku three trips from the car to the kitchen, carrying everything by hand. The art supplies were in bags underneath the kitchen table, and Dooku loaded the boxes of catered food into the fridge.

Dragos began pretending he hadn't eaten in hours, and Dooku opened a can of food for Dragos before putting on tea. Dooku heard Sören's voice down the hall.

"Nico? Do you mind if I call Dagnýr to also wish him a happy birthday?" Sören asked.

"Not at all," Dooku said.

While Sören was on the phone with his brother - and then his sister, and cousin - Dooku drank tea and continued to read up on his case. After Sören had been on the phone awhile, there was a loud knock at the door. It was too early for the guests to arrive; Dooku answered the door to greet the man delivering Sören's scooter. Dooku signed papers and was given the key. After the delivery truck drove off, Dooku took out a large purple-and-gold bow he'd bought at the art supply shop just for this purpose, and went out to the scooter to put the bow on it. Then he came back inside, feeling self-satisfied.

Sören was done with the phone a few minutes later, and strolled into the living room. "All right," he said, "here I am. Are we going someplace where I need to change?"

"No."

"So I can put on something more comfortable?"

Dooku smirked. "Not yet."

Sören raised an eyebrow and squinted again. "Nico. _What did you plan._ What's going on."

"You'll find out."

Sören started poking Dooku, again and again. "Tell me. Tell me what you did..." He grabbed Dooku's shoulders and began shaking them, gently.

After a moment Dooku relented, laughing. "I invited a few guests."

"A few?"

"Just a few, yes." Dooku nodded. "And I have a couple of gifts for you. I've been debating whether to give them to you before or during the celebration -"

"Uh, you can give them to me now?" Sören asked. "I wasn't expecting anything, really, so I don't want to make a scene in front of others -"

"Why wouldn't I get you something for your birthday? You're my partner." Dooku took Sören's hand and kissed it. "I love you and want to make you happy."

"Nico, you don't have to get me anything to make me happy," Sören said. "I don't give a damn about your money, I've never had it, wouldn't know what to do with it. I just like being with you."

"Can you accept that it makes me happy to make you happy?" Dooku asked. "And I wanted to do a couple of things to make you happy."

"Oh, all right." Sören rolled his eyes and gave a sarcastic sigh. "Let me have it."

Dooku got up, walked to the kitchen, and then came back with two large plastic bags.

"You got me bags!" Sören clapped his hands. "You shouldn't have."

Dooku glared, and Sören cackled, and Dooku put the bags down at his feet before taking his place next to Sören on the couch.

Sören opened one and his face lit up immediately at the canvases. "Nico. _Nico._ These are high quality. This is too much..."

Dooku waved his hand dismissively. "No, it's not." He gestured to the other bag. "Go on, open it."

Sören reached into the bag and began screaming when he pulled out a set of oil paints - the set included many shades he didn't have - and the brushes. "Nico. NICO, OH MY GOD, NICO..." Sören threw his arms around Nico and laughed and sobbed. "This is the best birthday present ever and it was entirely too extravagant and I love you -"

Dooku patted Sören's shoulders. Their foreheads pressed together, they kissed, and then Dooku said, softly, "I'm not done yet."

"Nico. You already spent a fortune on this -"

Dooku took Sören by the hand, pulled him to his feet, and began dragging him away from the couch towards the door. Dooku opened the front door, stepped outside, and gestured for Sören to follow. When Sören stepped onto the front step, his jaw dropped the moment he saw what was in the driveway.

He couldn't speak for a full minute, just staring at the scooter, then he lost his ability to speak English, stammering in Icelandic, and then he pounced on Dooku, hugging him tight, laughing and sobbing again.

"Nico. Nico..." Sören pulled back, shaking his head. "I can't accept this, Nico."

"Yes, you can."

"It's too much -"

"You're worth it." Dooku took Sören's chin in his hand, looked him in the eyes. "You're worth that, and so much more. Please. You deserve good things. Let me take care of you."

Sören started to cry, and Dooku pulled him close, rocking him. He was still rocking him when Qui-Gon's car pulled up - Qui was a little early, enough to be somewhat annoying, but Dooku also knew they wanted to beat traffic.

Qui and Obi got out of the car. "Hello!" Qui bellowed. "We came for the birthday party."

"Yes, come in," Dooku said, leading the way back inside.

"Tell this fool to stop spending money on me," Sören told Qui and Obi.

"I'm glad you're spoiling him," Qui said. He handed Sören a card.

"Now or later?" Sören looked at Dooku.

"Open it," Dooku said.

The card was a pop-up musical card of cats, and inside the card were a few gift cards to different stores, both online and local. The bottom of the card was signed "Thank you for loving Father and taking care of him. You are the best thing that has ever happened to him. -Q"

Sören hugged Qui and Obi both, tearing up again. Dooku made more tea, and began unloading the boxes of food from the fridge as Sören showed Qui and Obi his paint set, and then with Dooku's permission, took them down to the meditation room so they could look at Sören's latest work in progress. Dooku came in just before tea was ready, and it occurred to him that Qui and Obi hadn't been in the meditation room since it had been painted - indeed, Qui hadn't been in the meditation room in over a decade.

"I really like what he's done here," Qui said. "The Force sings."

"Indeed it does," Dooku said, nodding.

Dooku decided after that to give Qui and Obi the tour of Sören's various paintings, hung around the house. Dooku had been right in his original assessment that Qui would love Sören's work, and when they got back to the living room Qui and Sören started a conversation about when Sören started painting as a hobby, and what he saw in his mind's eye, and what inspired him. Dooku was engrossed in the conversation, reluctantly getting up when the next arrival came.

It was Leja. She hugged and kissed both Qui and Obi - confirming what Dooku already knew that they were a part of Leja's little harem - and then Leja hugged Sören and gave him a card.

"Oh no, not more gifts," Sören said.

Leja smirked. "Open it."

Sören did. Inside the card - which was entirely in Icelandic, a nice touch - there was a slip of paper folded up. Sören opened it, and it turned out to be a flyer. A flyer advertising an art show in the first week of January in the following year - a show that would be entirely Sören's, instead of Sören being one of several featured artists.

Sören got up, started screaming, and hugged Leja tight. "You didn't have to do that for my birthday," Sören said.

"I wanted to do it anyway," Leja said, "and announcing it now seemed like the right time. You're very talented, and it's time that got some proper recognition." She gestured to the card again. "Something else you forgot, you may need to reach inside the envelope."

The envelope had a check inside for five hundred pounds.

"I can't..."

"Yes, you can." Leja nodded. "I can afford it, and it's a small way of saying thank you for all the business _you_ have brought to my gallery."

Sören shook his head, dumbfounded, and tucked the check into his wallet. "You all need to stop."

Right on cue, the last guest arrived - it was Frankie. She had a bouquet of flowers, which Dooku quickly put in water, and she was carrying a large package.

"Et tu, Frankus?" Sören joked.

Sören unwrapped the package, and inside was a chainmaille vest, that Frankie had made herself, fit to Sören's measurements. Though the vest was obviously the least expensive gift in terms of cost, it had also taken many hours of labor, and Sören was impressed and touched enough to start crying again, as he held Frankie tight.

Frankie sat on the other side of Sören on the couch, and fawned over a now-curious Dragos. Dragos allowed himself to be pet before playing in the crinkled wrapping paper on the floor, and, finally, absconding with the bow that Sören had taken off the scooter, much to Sören's delight.

Dooku brought the guests into the kitchen, where they could help themselves from the various hors d'ouevres and courses on the table. One of the boxes contained specifically Swedish and Norwegian food - not quite Icelandic, but close enough, that Sören appreciated the effort.

For once, people were allowed to eat in the living room. There was another pot of tea, and Dooku opened a bottle of champagne.

The champagne relaxed everyone enough that, when Qui was pouring himself another cup of tea, he used the Force to lift the lid off the sugar bowl and put in sugarcubes without thinking of it. When he and the others noticed Frankie's jaw drop, the sugar bowl lid slammed to the coffee table, breaking.

"Oh dear," Qui said. He got up, startled, and that upset the teapot, spilling tea everywhere.

Frankie also got up, looking ready to bolt for the door, and Dooku used the Force to gently nudge her back into her seat. "Please sit down," he said. He waved his hand, attempting to use the Force to calm the panic he could feel cascading -

\- and then Dooku was pushed back, violently, without being touched, falling onto the coffee table. Frankie looked at her hands, which had come out, and then she got up again, and before she could run off, Sören said, "Frankie, it's OK. Please."

Frankie and Sören looked at each other for a minute, and then Sören looked around the room quickly, and used the Force to bring over a box of tissues.

"You can... do that... too?"

Sören nodded.

Frankie used the Force to pull a tissue out of the box, and wiped her eyes. "You bloody wanker, why didn't you fucking tell me?"

Sören put a hand on his hip. "Same reason why you didn't tell me, until now."

Sören helped Frankie back to her seat. "I can't believe we'd lived with each other for two years and managed to hide it from each other," Sören said, laughing through his tears.

"Neither can I."

"I had a lot of experience hiding it," Sören said. "My aunt and uncle beat it out of me."

"Mine wasn't that extreme but I learned to hide it because it would be one more thing I'd get bullied for," Frankie said. "Fat, ginger, clumsy, nerdy... I didn't need more trouble."

Sören hugged Frankie tight. "I should have realized. As a wise man once said," Sören gestured to Qui-Gon. "Force sensitives have a way of finding each other."

"I always thought I was crazy," Frankie said. "I didn't know anyone else who could do the things I did... I heard rumors, of course... but I spent my entire life being alone with... all of this..."

"None of us are alone anymore," Leja said. "The Force has all brought us here, together. Because it knows we need each other. We need a family." Leja raised her glass of champagne. "The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."

_

 

After all the guests went home, Dooku excused himself to the bathroom - getting himself ready for Sören's last birthday surprise - and then got the bedroom ready, taking out a bottle of lube and a bottle of massage oil. He lit candles, and scattered rose petals over the bed, and from the bed across the floor, to the bedroom door.

Then Dooku came out and served a second piece of cake to the birthday boy. If Dooku had taken awhile, Sören didn't remark on it; they snuggled close as Sören savored his cake, eating more slowly and deliberately than usual.

"Thank you," Sören said, when he'd finished his cake. "This is the nicest birthday I've ever had."

Dooku gave him a soft, sweet, lingering kiss. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

Sören put his plate down on the coffee table and wrapped his arms around Dooku. "It's not just the gifts. It's feeling like other people give a damn about me. You... going out of your way for me."

Dooku kissed Sören's forehead, and nuzzled him. "I love you."

"And I love you." Sören smiled, then. "I still can't fucking believe Frankie is Force sensitive."

"That was indeed a surprise." Dooku smiled back.

"It explains a lot about why she and I just clicked right away, as friends," Sören said. "How she and I can do things like finish each other's sentences and could pick up on each other's moods, almost like we were reading each other's minds, sometimes."

"The Force bond is a powerful thing."

"It is." Sören nodded. "Not just with friendships, either." Sören stroked Dooku's face, looking into his eyes. "I know things happened very quickly between us, but you... _touch_... something in me that others can't, that people can't see, or feel, or even know is there."

"I feel the same way about you." Dooku kissed Sören's hand. "And it's why I say things like everything about your life is important to me. Everything about you is beautiful to me. Including the parts you might dismiss as ugly, or failed, or insignificant." Dooku rolled up Sören's sleeve and traced the outline of the fire tattoo on his arm - a tattoo that covered scars, scars that Dooku was now beginning to notice that he'd seen Sören naked enough times. "Your struggles, your wounds, your scars... you are still you. A rose that grows in concrete is not less beautiful for being in an urban wasteland. It is more beautiful for being what it is, something that just happened to break through and survive and be beautiful despite all the ugliness and all that is trying to destroy it."

"You talk too much." But there was humor and affection in those words, just before Sören claimed Dooku's mouth with a hungry, passionate kiss that left them both breathless.

Dooku took their dishes to the kitchen - thankfully the mess from the broken and spilled tea service had already been cleaned up - and then he led Sören to their bedroom.

Sören's eyes widened and he let out a little gasp as he saw the candles glowing, and the trail of rose petals leading to the bed. "Nico," he whispered. "Nobody's ever-"

Dooku put his index finger to Sören's lips, and took him by the hand into their bedroom, to the trail of rose petals.

"I have one last birthday present to give you," Dooku told him.

"What?" Sören used the Force to open up his sock drawer, and out came the "willy warmer" that Sören had bought at the Icelandic Phallological Museum. "Are you finally gonna wear this?" Sören waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

The look Dooku gave him made Sören laugh out loud. "You know..."

"I know." Sören was still laughing. "Believe me, I know."

"Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"Such a brat."

"Because it makes you make that face." Sören leaned in to kiss Dooku's nose. "You're so cute."

"I am not cute." Dooku began to undress.

"You're very cute." Sören ogled Dooku, now stripped to a pair of black boxer-briefs. "And very sexy."

Dooku blushed. He still wasn't entirely used to Sören's frank, bold lust for him - he felt self-conscious and awkward as well as flattered and prideful all at once, and it was a very odd combination. His flustered feeling grew as Sören removed the last of his clothing to stand there completely naked with him, and Sören was already fully erect.

"You're beautiful," Dooku husked, reaching out to run his hands over Sören's lithe, willowy body.

Sören kissed him, and they made their way backwards to the bed, kissing, caressing each other. Once they had fallen onto the bed together, Sören leaned down, and nuzzled the growing bulge in Dooku's boxer-briefs, through the fabric. Dooku groaned, and then he gasped as he watched Sören take the waistband of the undergarments in his teeth... Sören began to peel the boxer-briefs down, using only his teeth. Dooku's cock sprang free, standing at attention.

When the boxer-briefs were removed and in the pile on the floor, Sören took a teasing lick at Dooku's cock, making him moan. Then Sören came back up to kiss him, deeply, Sören's hand wrapped around the cock, stroking it lazily.

"So," Sören whispered, "is this my birthday present? 'Cos if it is, you saved the best for last."

"Well, it's not."

Sören stopped stroking Dooku's cock and gave him a confused look.

"Or at least... that... part..." Dooku gave a little nervous clear of his throat, and then he said, "Tonight I want to... give myself to you."

"Give yourself..." Then it registered with Sören. "Oh. _Ohhhh._ You mean..."

"Yes." Dooku nodded. "I mean... that."

"You mean what." Sören gave him a small, impish smile.

Dooku took a deep breath, feeling flustered again. "I mean... I want you inside me."

"Nico, you're sure?"

Dooku nodded.

"I don't want you to feel obli-"

Dooku silenced Sören with a kiss. "I'm doing this because I want to, I've been curious about it for awhile."

Sören kissed him back, harder, and nipped his lower lip with a playful growl. "Well, since this is your first time bottoming... we have to go slow and easy."

"I know."

"I take it that's why you were awhile in the bathroom, then."

"...Yes." Dooku blushed. He still felt a bit prudish about personal hygiene matters, even though he knew "the routine" for when Sören had prepared to be penetrated by him, which seemed to have happened dozens of times now.

"You came prepared." Sören used the Force to pull over the bottle of massage oil. "I was going to suggest giving you a massage to loosen you up a bit."

"I also wanted to spoil you," Dooku said. "I've never given a massage before, but I... read up... on the subject, to prepare for you."

"Oooh." Sören smiled. "I like the thought of you reading naughty things, thinking about doing them to me."

"Mmmm." Dooku rolled Sören onto his stomach.

Dooku began to kiss the nape of Sören's neck, and down to one shoulder, then across to the other. Oiled fingers followed the wake of his lips and tongue. His tongue traced the outline of the tattoos on Sören's back - he lovingly, reverently kissed the scars that he saw, underneath the phoenixes. His oiled hands rubbed up and down Sören's back as he continued to kiss down Sören's spine. He nuzzled the smooth skin of Sören's tight bubble butt, kissed the back of one thigh as his hands kneaded Sören's ass, rubbed and caressed Sören's thigh as he kissed and licked behind the knee, kissed and licked the calf, and then his hands worked over the tense calf muscles as he turned his attentions to the other calf. Then kissed and licked up the thigh as his hands rubbed the calf, then nuzzled the other ass cheek as he rubbed Sören's thigh, and then he kissed and nibbled Sören's sensitive hips, rubbing those too before he had Sören turn over.

He spent a long time licking, nibbling and suckling Sören's nipples as his hands rubbed all over Sören's chest. His cock throbbed and dripped precum with anticipation as Sören's nipples peaked beneath his tongue, as Sören writhed and whimpered. Dooku liked rubbing his tongue fast and then teasing Sören with slow, deliberate brush strokes of his tongue, before playfully tugging the nipple ring between his teeth and sucking hard, to give it some more slow licks. When Sören started raking his nails over Dooku's back, he laughed softly and moved his lips lower, to kiss and nibble Sören's stomach. He nibbled and licked Sören's navel, and groomed the dark bush with his tongue as he rubbed Sören's thighs and calves from the front this time. At last Sören's cock was in his mouth, getting it nice and wet and ready for him. Dooku gently stroked himself as he sucked Sören's cock; he definitely liked doing this a lot more than he ever thought he would, aroused by the sight of Sören's beautiful cock and the way it felt in his mouth, the smell and the taste, and the sheer lewdness of the act. He loved feeling that loss of control, giving into his animal side, and the thought that Sören would put that cock inside him - that he would let himself be _fucked_ \- was making him tremble with desire.

Before Sören could come in Dooku's mouth, he took his cock out and instructed Dooku to lay on his stomach. Dooku felt Sören's hard cock grind against his ass crack as Sören gave his body the same treatment, kissing and licking over his shoulders and back, oiled hands rubbing and kneading where his mouth had been. "You've got such a nice back," Sören purred. "You've even got nice definition in your back. You're like a work of art, a statue of a god."

Dooku laughed softly, feeling too flustered to say anything in response.

Then he felt Sören's tongue dip _inside him._ Slowly licking, swirling... and when Sören's tongue brushed that spot, Dooku heard himself moan. He shuddered, gasped for breath as Sören's tongue licked it again. And again. If Sören's cock - and especially the ring in the cock head - felt even half as good as the way Sören's tongue did now, Dooku had a better appreciation for why Sören reacted the way he did when he was taken... and Dooku's cock got even harder, balls tightening, aching for what was about to happen.

His moans got louder and louder, the tension and excitement building to fever pitch, as Sören ate him. He heard himself panting, even whimpering a little, not able to help it, shaking as Sören's tongue made him crazy with sensation and need. Nothing had ever felt so good, and he would have let Sören just do that to him all night if he didn't sense Sören needed to come as badly as he did.

At last Sören stopped - a good twenty minutes later. Sören himself was breathing hard. Sören kissed and licked and nibbled over Dooku's thigh and calf before rubbing it as his mouth worked on the other one. Then Sören massaged Dooku's back some more, really easing him up, before Sören patted his shoulder and told him, "Turn over."

Sören spent an exquisite, excruciatingly long time just licking Dooku all over, grooming the silver-white chest hair and arm hair and leg hair with his tongue, like an animal. Sören's tongue felt as good all over his body as it did inside his ass, and Dooku lay there helpless in his need, never wanting Sören to stop, as much as he ached for release. Sören's tongue on his nipples, then his fingers playing with them, made him feverish, even moreso when Sören's fingers continued rubbing and plucking his nipples as Sören slowly sucked his cock... then his balls... then licked the sensitive place between his balls and ass, and then his ass again.

"Sören..." Dooku was finally pleading for it. "Sören, please..."

Sören chuckled softly. "Please, what?" He stuck his tongue back inside, tongue-fucking the prostate faster, harder.

"I need..."

"Mmmm, need what?"

"You."

Sören's eyes locked with his. Sören stopped eating him, and used the Force to bring over the bottle of lube. Sören lubed his already oil-slick fingers, and stuck a finger inside him, rubbing slowly. Sören's finger felt different from his tongue - still good - and then there were two fingers. Three was a little uncomfortable and then it stopped being uncomfortable and Dooku moaned, not able to keep from bucking against Sören's fingers inside him, wanting more.

That was Sören's cue to stop. He took a few last teasing licks at Dooku's cock, making a show of lapping up the precum - there was so much of it, now - and then he came up to kiss Dooku, as they lubed up Sören's cock, together.

"How do you want it?" Sören rasped.

"I want to see you," Dooku said. "I want to look into your eyes."

"Good," Sören said, "because I want to look at you... especially that gorgeous cock of yours when you come for me."

Dooku shuddered.

They positioned a pillow under Dooku's hips, and then Sören spread Dooku's legs and settled between them missionary-style. "If you need me to stop, tell me and I will," Sören said.

Dooku nodded. Then he braced himself - as badly as he wanted this, _needed_ this, he was under no illusions that it was going to be anything but -

"Oh god." The initial pinching, burning, as Sören began pushing into him. He gasped with the shock of pain.

"Do you need me to stop?"

"Keep going."

Sören took Dooku's hand and squeezed, as he continued pushing past the tight anal ring. "Just take deep breaths and push out as I push in." The other hand rubbed Dooku's chest. "That's it. Thaaaat's it."

Dooku pushed and breathed through the pain - the final burning stab, like a knife going into him - and then there was just heat, and fullness. His breath came out more ragged, with the relief of that part being done.

Sören rested for a moment, and then began to move, slowly. There was discomfort that wasn't quite pain - still in shock from the size of him - and then, finally...

" _Ohhhh._ " Dooku shuddered. "Sören..."

Sören's eyes lit up and narrowed, a mischievous smile on his face. "That's right." Sören leaned in to kiss Dooku, still thrusting slowly.

The ring in Sören's cock... the bead in the ring... Dooku reached out to grab Sören's hips, without thinking about it. The bead in the ring rubbing him _there_... "Yes, yes, _yes_..."

"Oh, fuck." Sören bit his lower lip - Dooku found that incredibly sexy - and he shivered. Across their Force bond, Dooku could feel Sören's pleasure, the way Sören was responding to the tight velvet heat wrapped around him, his channel gripping and working Sören's cock just the right way. It excited him, to know he was pleasing Sören. And _Force_ , Sören was pleasing him.

"Sören... oh god, Sören, don't stop..."

Sören leaned in to kiss Dooku, and Dooku wrapped his arms around Sören, holding him tight, in complete surrender.

But that surrender grew ever deeper as Sören continued to thrust, as Sören's cock throbbed inside him - he loved the length and thickness and texture of Sören's shaft, and the thought of Sören's cock pumping in and out of him drove him to the edge with lust and need. The bead in Sören's piercing worked its magic on Dooku's prostate, until Sören was fucking him faster and harder and the rubbing-rubbing-rubbing on his sweet spot was making him pant and shake and _melt_ , his entire body a prisoner, a slave to the pleasure, the frenzied _need_ consuming him...

Sören was kissing his neck, his shoulder, his fingers playing over Dooku's body. Dooku couldn't stop moaning.

At last they were right on that edge - ready to orgasm, but not ready to stop teasing, fucking, feeling that frenzied heat - and Sören took Dooku's cock in his hand, working it harder and harder. Dooku's eyes rolled and he moaned louder as his hips rolled against Sören's, fucking back at him, needing it, needing to come, but needing to be fucked and fucked and fucked... The wet sucking sound of their fucking, the slap of Sören's balls against his ass, just made it even hotter, made him feel like an animal in heat, completely out of control, and he loved it.

"Mmmmm," Sören growled between kisses. "I'm gonna make you come for me... want that beautiful, hot cock of yours to come all over me just before I come deep inside your arse..."

The dirty talk delivered in Sören's sexy accent sent Dooku over the edge. He'd wanted to be a gentleman and let Sören come first, but it was too much. With a wild cry, Dooku erupted all over Sören's chest and stomach, and Sören sped up his thrusts, screaming as he slammed into Dooku one last time; the feeling of Sören's hot cum shooting inside him made Dooku shoot again, trembling, groaning, gasping for breath.

They kissed deeply. Their foreheads touched, and they breathed each other's breath, melting together, riding the waves of light, then kissed again and again, lost in that moment of oneness with each other, oneness in the Force.

Dooku held Sören close, petting him. Sören finally pulled out of Dooku and cackled at the mess. "Wow," Sören said. "I came so hard I think I need a transfusion of... something."

"Oh, dear." Dooku laughed too.

They kissed again. Sören pet Dooku's face and whiskers, and said softly, "Thank you."

"Thank you." Dooku kissed Sören's hand and pressed it to his heart. "I love you."

" _Ég elska þig, elskan mín._ "

The tears came for both of them. They held each other, crying together, kissing through their tears. Dooku felt completely raw and vulnerable, exposed but in a good way. Sören hadn't just been inside him physically, but he felt like Sören had made love to his soul. As different as they were, they still _knew_ each other, they saw things in each other that no one else had seen. Sören had touched him in a way nobody else had.

After the candles were out, and they curled up under the covers, Dooku felt himself falling asleep more quickly than usual, but not before he heard Sören mumble, sleepily, " _Ég elska þig þar til andinn minn fer frá þessum heimi._ "

Dooku didn't speak Icelandic, but he still, somehow, understood. "I know," he said, squeezing Sören's hand before sleep washed over him.


	17. Chapter 17

In the week since Dooku had first bottomed for Sören, he bottomed twice more, including last night - Dooku was still a little sore as he made the drive home from work. Sören still bottomed more often overall, but Dooku found he enjoyed the prostate stimulation and, just as much, the feeling of intimacy - letting Sören into the most vulnerable place of him, being one flesh, complete union and surrender.

He thought of Sören as he drove home - he was already getting hard, thinking about the way they'd made love last night, the way he'd lay on his back and propped his legs on Sören's shoulders, going mad with lust at the sight of Sören losing control, fucking him hard. Then later, when they'd both recovered, Sören straddled him and rode him slowly, sensually, for what seemed like an eternity, until they couldn't take it anymore and then Sören climbed off his cock, turned around, and rode him - Dooku had sat up then, Sören's back against his chest, one arm wrapped around Sören and the other stroking his cock to match Sören's wild, frenzied rhythm, riding him like a bull.

He was definitely worked up now, aching and breathing harder. He felt almost embarrassed by his lack of control, even the way he was driving faster now, impatient to get home and carry Sören off to the bedroom as soon as he saw him, maybe even fuck him against the wall...

Dooku pulled into the driveway, and with trembling hands, took his briefcase out of the passenger's seat. He almost ran to the door. When he opened it, he was a little surprised Sören wasn't right there in the foyer to greet him, as he usually was... and then more surprised to hear the sound of sobbing, coming from the living room.

 _Shit._ Dooku felt awkward, standing in the doorway with an erection, and wondered if his arousal would comfort Sören or make the upset worse somehow. "Sören, sweetheart, are you all right?"

Then he heard Sören's voice murmuring soothingly above the sobs, and realized the person crying wasn't Sören. _Well then._ Dooku put his briefcase down at his desk in the study, then promptly marched to the bathroom to run his hands under cold water and splash cold water on his face - a technique he had learned to use at work when he got aroused thinking of Sören, to help distract himself. When Dooku had softened somewhat, he gingerly paused in the doorway of the living room, watching a moment as Sören held a sobbing Frankie and rocked her back and forth, before clearing his throat.

Sören looked up, and Frankie looked over her shoulder. "Nico," Sören said.

Dooku gave a small, apologetic smile. "What's going on? Can I do anything to help?"

Sören looked at Frankie, and she fell apart again, another round of sobbing. Dooku gave a soft sigh and said, "I'll make tea."

Dragos had been hovering around Sören and Frankie, and followed Dooku into the kitchen. Dooku gave his cat pettings while he waited for the water to boil, and when tea was ready, Dooku carried the tea service into the living room, with Dragos trotting behind him. Dooku sat on the armchair near the couch, where Sören and Frankie were curled up together; Dragos used the footstool near the armchair to climb up and onto Dooku.

Dragos being so insistent for Dooku's attention necessitated using the Force to help himself to tea, and he was quietly grateful that he didn't have to disguise it around his guest. He gestured to the tea service. "Please have some," he said.

Frankie pulled off of Sören with a nod, and mumbled her thanks.

After sitting in awkward silence for a few minutes, drinking tea, Dooku finally said, "So... what happened? If you're comfortable sharing."

Sören and Frankie looked at each other, and then Frankie nodded at Sören and Sören spoke for her. "Her girlfriend broke up with her."

"Ah." Dooku frowned. "That's unfortunate."

"The unfortunate part," Frankie growled, "is that she fuckin' left me for someone else. Someone she'd been cheating on me with this entire time."

Dooku's frown deepened.

"It wasn't just that," Sören said. "She came to the shop to do it, in public, and embarrassed the shit out of Frankie by saying a few hurtful things."

Frankie nodded, and the tears came bubbling again. "She made fun of my weight, and..."

"That's atrocious." Dooku snorted. "You're better off."

"That's what I told her," Sören said. He glared. "I had a few words for her bitch ex, too."

Frankie nodded. She laughed, and cried, and laughed and cried again. "He sure did. Just before he threw them out."

"Them?" Dooku's eyebrows raised.

"Já, them. Her ex brought the new girlfriend in." Sören sipped his tea as angrily as a person could drink tea. "It was disgusting."

"I don't understand how anyone could be so needlessly cruel," Dooku said.

"I'm used to people being shitty to me," Frankie said. "People have been mean about my weight and other things my whole life."

Dooku sighed. Frankie was a bit chubby, but she carried it well. "Frankly, your weight is fine," Dooku said. "I dislike the trend these days to starve oneself. You look healthy."

"No offense," Frankie said, "but unless you're into women your opinion doesn't count."

"Oh please," Sören said. "Just because we prefer men doesn't mean we're not allowed to have aesthetic opinions. There's lots of gay men who go into fashion or hairdressing."

"And regardless," Dooku said, "if she truly cared for you such things wouldn't matter."

Sören nodded. "I think Nico here is hot as fuck but my attraction to him isn't just physical. First and foremost, I like who he is."

Dooku blushed, and gave a small smile.

Frankie made exaggerated vomit noises until Sören elbowed her, and Frankie gave him a playful punch on the arm. Then Frankie went back to sobbing, and Sören put down his tea and pulled her close, petting her mohawk.

"There's other girls out there," Sören said. "You don't need her bullshit. You'll find someone better."

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Dooku inquired.

Frankie looked up and said, "Twenty-two."

"Younger than I thought," Dooku said. "It took me sixty-eight years to find someone." His eyes met Sören's, and his heart skipped a beat at the look of love in Sören's eyes.

"I don't want to wait forty sodding years," Frankie wailed.

"No, but it took me thirty-two, almost thirty-three years, myself," Sören said, continuing to pet his friend. "When I was your age..."

Frankie gave him a look, and Dooku snorted again, this time with amusement.

"...let's just say mistakes were made," Sören said. "I moved to England because I'd shagged about half the gay men in Iceland - I'm only slightly exaggerating - and felt like a change in scenery would broaden my prospects. But even then... mistakes were made."

"Yeah, like Justin," Frankie said.

"Exactly," Sören said.

Dooku realized it was the first time Sören had ever mentioned his abusive ex by name.

"Justin the _footballer_ ," Frankie said, derisively.

"You dated a footballer," Dooku said, bemused.

Sören nodded, with an eyeroll. "And a semi-famous one. Arsenal. It started off as a hookup and turned into more. He wasn't as dumb as he sounds."

"He was a dumb cunt for treating you the way he did," Frankie said.

"And so's your ex." Sören patted Frankie. "At least your ex never hit you."

"It might have been kinder if she had." Frankie broke down crying again.

Sören held Frankie tight, and started rocking her again. He kissed the top of her forehead, like she was a small child, before she buried her face in his chest. "You'll find someone else. You're a good girl - if we both weren't gay you know we'd have already ended up together. In the meantime, good riddance to that bitch. That was _vile_. It's her loss, not yours."

"Indeed," Dooku said. "I can't even fathom why she would make such a disgusting scene in public."

"People started throwing shit at her on the way out," Sören said, with a little vindictive smile. "Some of our customers can be arseholes, but our regulars weren't gonna sit there and let Frankie be treated like that."

"I would have said something in your defense if I had been there," Dooku said. "I wish I had."

"Thanks," Frankie said.

"So, that's why I brought her here," Sören said. "I know you probably had plans after work, but -"

Dooku waved his hand. "You're a good friend, and that just makes me love you more." He meant it; Sören's heart was one of the things he loved most about him.

Sören smiled. He pet Frankie some more, rocking her; Frankie's tears were subsiding a little - she was crying quietly now instead of noisily.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Dooku asked.

"I don't want to impose." Frankie sniffled, and used the Force to pull out some tissues from the box.

"No, I think it would be good to let us take care of you this evening," Dooku said.

"Thank you." Frankie nodded. "Only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Dooku said.

"Thank you," Sören said. Their eyes met, and across their Force bond, Sören spoke directly into his mind: _I'll make it up to you later._

"Yes, thank you again." Frankie paused. "I wanted to say 'thank you, Nico' but I feel somehow like that would be too, uh -"

Dooku nodded. "Sören is the first and only person to call me that, the short version of my middle name, Nicolae. People just usually call me by my surname, Dooku, which started when I was a lad in boarding school. But I suppose that's too formal, as well."

"I could call you Pops," Frankie said.

Sören laughed. "Yes, good."

Dooku's expression soured slightly at that, but then the way Sören was amused by it made him relax and take amusement in it as well. "All right." He smiled. "If your father wouldn't mind."

Frankie snorted. "You're joking, right?"

"Oh." Dooku frowned. "I take it that you and your father..."

"I don't know my father," Frankie said. "My mum raised me by herself, in council housing."

"'Raised.'" Sören's fingers made air quotes. "Her mother is about as much of a piece of work as my Aunt Katrín. Drank, got violent when drunk. Something Frankie and I bonded over when we became friends."

"I'm sorry," Dooku said. He felt awkward saying it - it felt trite. He gave a deep sigh. "My childhood wasn't pleasant either, though at least neither of my parents were drinkers. My father didn't need to drink to stomach taking me to the woodshed." He realized then he normally didn't reveal this part of his past - Sören was the first he'd told - and being able to come out about it to another person felt strangely liberating. He'd kept in silence too long - first in fear, then in shame - and being able to open up and admit this happened to him was a positive step forward.

Sören recognized it too; with the Force, Sören reached out to give Dooku's knee a squeeze. Dooku's eyes teared up at the touch.

"I had my aunt," Frankie said. "She's always been kind to me. She gave me a job as soon as I was old enough."

"She also helped you come out," Sören said. He smirked. "Maybe your aunt knows a single lady or two..."

"Oh, _please._ " Frankie shook her head, laughing. "I don't want to hook up with some old lady." Then she looked at Dooku and looked away, sheepish. "I'm sorry -"

"No need to apologize," Dooku said, but he too felt sheepish, self-conscious at the age difference between he and Sören.

"Different strokes for different folks, as they say," Sören said.

"I was kind of surprised," Frankie said. "Justin was a bit younger than Sören..."

"Well, he was old enough," Sören said. "But Justin isn't all of my history. I've usually gone with older men, and Justin reminded me there's a reason why." Sören gave Dooku a lustful look then. "Uh, more than one reason why."

Dooku's self-conscious feeling turned into being flustered, flattered, and trying to not think lewd thoughts and have an awkward erection with a guest over.

Then Dooku looked down - he hadn't changed out of court dress yet, though at least he wasn't still wearing a wig, which was in his car. "I'll get changed to make something for dinner," Dooku said.

"There's no rush on dinner," Sören said, "we can decide what we're going to do, but by all means, get comfortable."

Dooku placed Dragos on the footstool, and walked down to their bedroom. As he changed, he heard Frankie sobbing again, and Sören murmuring soothingly. When Dooku came back to the living room, Frankie was wailing, and Sören looked distraught, hurting for her.

Sören finally looked up at Dooku, and Dooku tried to smile, but then Frankie let out another long sob and Dooku frowned, feeling bad. Sören scratched his head, brow furrowed in thought, and then he asked Dooku, "Can you do me a favor and go bring my satchel?"

Sören had a denim-and-camo satchel bag on a small table with his art supplies in the meditation room. Dooku retrieved it, and gave it to Sören with a quizzical look. He sat back down in the armchair and watched as Sören opened the bag up.

"All right," Sören said. "I haven't done this in awhile, not since before I moved out, I think..." He pulled out a glass pipe - decorative, with the bowl shaped like a turtle - and then a small plastic bag.

Dooku raised his eyebrows.

Sören began packing the bowl. Frankie's jaw dropped. "You still had some?" she asked.

Sören nodded. "Unlike you, I can make a quarter last for awhile."

"Er." Dooku cleared his throat. "Is that a weed?"

Sören and Frankie looked at each other, and then busted out laughing. " _A_ weed," Sören said. "Wow, Nico, your English is worse than mine and it's not even my first language."

Dooku glared, and then Sören stuck out his tongue and Dooku let out a sigh of mock exasperation.

Sören continued to pack the bowl, then he paused and said to Dooku, "You've never...?"

"No," Dooku said, truthfully. "Not even once."

"Wait, how old are you?" Frankie's eyebrows went up.

"I shall be sixty-nine on the twenty-first," Dooku said.

"So wait, you came of age during the hippie era and you never..."

"Correct," Dooku said. "I was busy with school and establishing a career in a very conservative profession. I am what my peers of that time would call a 'square'."

"Well, I'm an artist, so now I'm going to make you a triangle," Sören said. He grinned at Dooku. "There's a first time for everything."

"You want me to... smoke... _that._ "

Sören nodded. "Frankie needs to calm down, and this will help her take the edge off, and you're gonna get a contact high from being in the same room, so you might as well just toke up with us."

Dooku sighed, rubbed his forehead, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Never in his life did he think he'd be smoking marijuana, not the least of which for the first time at age sixty-eight, with a lover young enough to be his son.

Sören lit the pipe and took a deep puff, and then passed it to Frankie. Dooku watched as Sören held in the smoke, and after a moment let it out, coughing. Frankie took a puff, and then passed the pipe to Dooku. Dooku held the pipe, looking at it.

"Puff or pass, but do it fast, don't burn up my stash," Sören choked out.

Dooku put the pipe to his lips. The skunky smell was unpleasant, and so was the heat, crisping his nostrils; nonetheless, he sucked in, and did as Sören and Frankie did, holding in the smoke before exhaling. He coughed violently as smoke clouded around him.

Sören waited for Dooku to stop coughing before he lit the pipe again, took another puff, passed to Frankie who puffed, and then Dooku held the pipe, considering, before Sören paused coughing to give him a look. Dooku took another deep puff, and had another coughing fit.

Sören used the Force to pour Dooku another cup of tea and pass it to him. In between sips, Dooku grumbled, "I don't understand how the youth can enjoy this with the smell and all of the coughing."

"That's not why people do this," Sören said. "The payout comes after."

"Hmph." Dooku sipped his tea. "I may be too old for this to even have an effect on me. I don't feel anything different."

Sören and Frankie looked at each other and cackled before Sören lit the pipe again.

 

_

"I think I forgot how to move my legs." Dooku tried again to get up from his chair, but felt like he was made of rubber.

Laughing, Sören got up from the couch and took Dooku's hand, pulling him to his feet. Dooku leaned on Sören for a moment, also laughing.

Sören helped Dooku walk to the bathroom, and waited outside the bathroom door in the hall while Dooku went about his business. Dooku grabbed onto the sink to pull himself up, and when he was ready, he leaned on Sören again.

They walked back to the living room and Dooku surveyed the two pizza boxes - between the three of them, they had demolished one and a half large pizzas.

"I still can't believe I ate that much," Dooku said.

"You had the munchies," Frankie said.

"We all did." Sören nodded.

"I don't feel like getting up, myself, but I need to head home," Frankie said.

Dooku looked at the time and raised an eyebrow. "Tube?"

Frankie nodded. "I've been on the Tube at this hour before, and you probably shouldn't drive."

"I don't feel comfortable with you taking the Tube in your current state, either," Dooku said. He looked at Sören, who nodded. Dooku couldn't believe he was saying this, but here it was. "You may spend the evening here."

"Are you sure." Frankie gave Dooku a deathly serious look.

"I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it." Dooku gestured to the couch. "It folds out into a bed, and I have some spare linens in the hall closet. I don't know how comfortable it is -"

"I don't have a change of clothes," Frankie said.

"You can wear one of my T-shirts to sleep in," Sören said. "Since I'm taller than you it should even out the size difference."

Somehow, Sören and Dooku fixed up the couch bed for Frankie - Dooku still felt strange moving around, like the gravity was somehow different, or he was breathing a different kind of air, or both. Then Dooku refrigerated the leftover pizza and cleared the boxes and cleaned up the living room a little.

Dooku put on the television for Frankie - he got more channels than she did, and showed her. Dooku then departed for the study to do one last check of his e-mails and anything important, while Sören spent some time talking to Frankie before she was ready to turn in, but Dooku couldn't concentrate. He felt like his mind had been emptied.

Sören found him in the study, in a lightly meditative state. "Here," Sören said. "Let me help you."

Dooku leaned on Sören all the way to their bedroom. Sören began undressing, putting on a T-shirt and flannel plaid pajama bottoms, and then he helped Dooku strip out of his clothes and put on pajamas.

"I think I'm probably too high for..." Dooku's voice trailed off.

"It's all right. I actually wanted to paint while I'm like this." Sören patted the bed. "You can sleep some of it off."

Sören tucked Dooku in and gave him a little kiss. Dooku smiled to himself, deeply relaxed; after awhile he felt Dragos climb onto the bed and settle next to him, purring. Dooku reached out to pet Dragos, and the petting and purring lulled him to sleep.

Dooku woke up to feel Sören climbing in next to him. Dooku's eyes opened briefly to look at the time - Sören had been painting for over five hours, and it was three hours before Dooku would have to go in to work. Dooku made a noise.

"Do you have court?" Sören asked.

"No," Dooku said. "After yesterday in court, I have court again in two days. Today is just paperwork."

"You can do that at home," Sören said. "Call the chamber and tell them you're taking a sick day."

"...Now?"

"Obviously not now, silly." Sören kissed the top of Dooku's head, laughing softly. "Before you're supposed to go in."

Dooku sighed. "A sick day?"

"Já. A mental health day." Sören snickered. "I have the day off, and I'd like to spend it with you."

Dooku snuggled into Sören. "That's nice." He nuzzled Sören's beard. "I'm sorry I fell asleep before we could..."

"It's all right." Sören kissed the tip of Dooku's nose and stroked his face. "It was nice to see you stoned and, well... happy."

"You make me happy," Dooku said.

"Happier, then?" Sören rubbed his back. "It was cute."

"I am not cute."

"You're fucking adorable."

 

_

Dooku woke up to the sound of his alarm going off. Instinctively he reached out to turn it off, and then he groaned, not wanting to get up.

Before he could doze off again, he felt a poke on the tip of his nose and heard Sören say, "Boop." Dooku sleepily opened his eyes and saw his cell phone in his face.

Reluctantly, Dooku sat in and called his barrister chamber, where one of the secretaries would be just coming in at this hour, getting the office ready. He explained briefly that he wasn't feeling well and taking a day off, and he would be back tomorrow and catch up on paperwork.

As soon as he got off the phone, Sören snatched the phone out of his hand, put it on the bedtable, and gave Dooku a hard, hungry kiss. Dooku moaned into the kiss, and again when he felt Sören's hard-on rubbing up against his thigh.

"I watched you sleep," Sören rasped. "It took me every ounce of my strength to not wake you up and start ravishing you."

Dooku chuckled, and kissed Sören back, more soft and gentle. "I don't think I would have minded that."

"I did want to be a responsible adult and let you get your rest and call into your job." Sören's hand was rubbing Dooku through his pajama bottoms now, and Dooku groaned, his cock stirring beneath his lover's touch.

They kissed again, and again, and Sören began kissing his neck - _god_ , that was one of his most sensitive places. Dooku was almost embarrassed by the moans he couldn't help, but Sören's mouth felt too good to make him stop for the sake of dignity. Dooku lost himself to pleasure, weak and melting with need to Sören's kisses, licks, and nibbles up and down his neck.

Sören's hand reached down the pajama bottoms and took out his cock; Dooku groaned loudly as Sören started stroking it, slowly, in time with the brushes of his tongue.

"Mmmmmmm." Sören's mouth claimed his again, and then Sören nipped Dooku's lower lip, before he playfully licked his tongue against Dooku's for a few lashes, then kissed him again, deeper. "You like that?" Sören's index finger swirled around the slit of Dooku's cock head, which was starting to drip precum.

Just then, there was a knock on their bedroom door.

"Oh shit," Dooku heard himself say under his breath.

Sören grinned - Dooku rarely swore, so producing that kind of reaction meant Dooku was really into it, and Dooku was pleased this pleased Sören. Then Sören called out, "What?"

"Just letting you guys know I'm on my way back to Greenwich," Frankie said from behind the door. "So if you want to lock up behind me and all of that..."

"All right," Sören said. Then he looked at Dooku, somewhat apologetically, and asked, "Do you need a ride?"

"Nah, I can take the Tube, it's fine. I'm not too stoned now." A nervous laugh. Then a snort and Frankie said, "Unless that question was meant for your man and not me."

Dooku facepalmed and Sören let out that wild laugh Dooku loved so much, even when it was at his expense. "There are jokes about 'taking the Tube' in here somewhere," Sören said.

Dooku made a noise, and Frankie laughed too. "You guys are perverts," Frankie said.

"No, _he's_ a pervert," Dooku yelled.

"He's the one with his dick out right now," Sören said.

"Thanks for the info," Frankie said.

"You're welcome."

"Cunt."

"Bitch."

"Love you," Frankie said.

"Love you too," Sören said, smiling. "Stay safe, call me later if you need anything. I might be occupied but I'll return your call when I'm free."

Frankie snorted again. "Occupied. Fucking pervert."

Sören laughed, continuing to laugh as he kissed Dooku again and resumed stroking Dooku's cock, making him moan. Soon Sören had peeled off his pajama bottoms and Sören helped him off with his pajama top. Dooku returned the favor, undressing Sören, running his hands over the creamy exposed flesh. He drew one of Sören's nipples into his mouth just as they heard the door close, indicating Frankie had left.

Sören arched his back and cried out as Dooku suckled, crying out again as Dooku's tongue swirled around the aureole before lapping at the nipple fast and hard. He took the nipple ring between his teeth and gave a little playful tug before sucking the nipple again, and then they heard Dragos scratching at the bedroom door, meowing.

Dooku reluctantly took Sören's nipple out of his mouth, with a little sigh. "He usually eats around now," Dooku said.

Sören nodded, petting Dooku's whiskers fondly. "Go take care of the baby."

Dooku used the Force to open the bedroom door, and climbed out of bed, naked. Dragos meowed louder at the sight of him and began to pace expectantly. Once Dooku made it to the bedroom door, Dragos trotted down the hall, leading the way to his food dish. Dooku walked down the hall naked, erect, and before he joined Dragos in the kitchen, he went to lock the front door. Though his neighborhood in Bermondsey was quiet and not prone to crime, it was force of habit. Dragos lingered in the kitchen doorway, meowing again, and Dooku said, "Yes, yes," following the cat into the kitchen.

Once the cat was fed, Dooku stopped in the guest bedroom to wash off the cat food smell. Then he decided it would be a good idea to prepare himself while he was there, so he spent a few moments getting cleaned up for sex, washing up in the sink. When he got back in the bedroom it was apparent that Sören had the same idea; he could hear the water running in the bathroom. Dooku climbed onto the bed and then, feeling somewhat self-conscious about it, propped himself up on one elbow in his best attempt at a seductive pose, and began stroking himself. Sören came out of the bathroom to find him like that, and gave a low whistle, then an approving grin.

"You are so fucking hot." Sören climbed onto the bed and crawled to him on all fours, with a little growl.

Before Dooku could respond - or attempt a response, too flustered to speak - Sören climbed over him, giving him a deep, hungry kiss. Dooku groaned as he felt Sören lay on top of them, their hard cocks grinding together.

For a little while they just kissed and kissed, cock rubbing cock, Dooku's hands roaming over Sören's back and ass. Their cocks grew slick with dripping precum, and Sören finally collected some on his fingers, pushing into Dooku's mouth for him to taste. Sören took a few playful, sensual licks at Dooku's tongue before kissing him again, and then his kisses trailed over Dooku's jaw, to his neck.

Dooku moaned as Sören kissed and licked his neck, his throat, the sweet spot where the neck meets the shoulder. He was so exquisitely sensitive there, and just the feeling of Sören's full lips on his neck brought him dangerously close to climax. When Sören began kissing his nipples, it was even more heavenly. Dooku felt like he was melting into the mattress, as his cock throbbed and balls tightened. Sören kissed down the length of Dooku's body, spending a good amount of time kissing Dooku's stomach, tracing the definition in the abs with his tongue. Dooku made inhuman noises as Sören kissed, licked, and nibbled his thighs, another deliciously sensitive place. And at last, Sören took Dooku's cock into his mouth, swallowing it down to the hilt, eyes locked, letting Dooku see the heat in his gaze. Sören cupped and rubbed Dooku's balls with one hand, his free hand reaching up to caress Dooku's chest and stomach, thread his fingers through the white chest hair.

Just before Dooku could come in Sören's mouth, Sören gave him a wicked grin and took Dooku's cock out of his mouth, teasing it with long, slow licks, and then stuck his tongue in Dooku's ass. The dance of Sören's tongue on his prostate kept him on that edge, desperate to come but never wanting the pleasure to stop, Sören's tongue taking him to new heights of wild excitement, making him completely lose himself.

Sören ate him and ate him, giving hungry little growls in response to Dooku's grunts and moans and sighs. At last, the rubbing of Sören's tongue sent him over the edge and Dooku had a powerful orgasm, shooting on Sören's face as Sören's tongue slowed down inside him, giving a last few licks that made his orgasm even more intense.

Sören lapped up cum from Dooku's cock and then rested his head in Dooku's chest, kissing the center over his heart as Dooku caught his breath.

"That was incredible," Dooku said when he could breathe and find his ability to make words again.

Sören smiled at him.

Dooku felt Sören's hard-on against his thigh, and he patted Sören's ass. "I have to take care of you, now."

"All right," Sören said. "What would you like to do to me?"

"Everything." Dooku smiled, and Sören grinned back. Dooku's stomach fluttered at how beautiful Sören's radiant grin was, lighting up his whole world.

"Well..." Sören's hand rubbed the center of Dooku's chest, where his head had been, and then it was just his fingers walking, and his fingers made their way to rub and tease a nipple, making Dooku's cock stir again. Dooku groaned at Sören's magic touch. "We can't do everything all at once, but we've got all day, so pick something to start with and we'll do other things later."

Dooku gave a mock exaggerated sigh, which became a moan as Sören's thumb rubbed Dooku's nipple, before he rolled it between his thumb and index finger and resumed rubbing it with his fingertip. "It's difficult to think when you do that."

"Is it? I'm so sorry." Sören leaned in and replaced his finger with his tongue, taking slow, deliberate licks at Dooku's nipple, smiling as he watched it continue to peak.

"You're not helping."

"I'm very helpful." Sören took the nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard before he resumed working his tongue, faster.

With a growl, Dooku found himself grabbing Sören by the curls and crushing his mouth to Sören's, kissing him hungrily. Sören moaned into the kiss, and responded by taking both their cocks into his fist, stroking them together, which made Dooku moan as well. Sören collected precum on his fingers again and Dooku licked and sucked his fingers before they rubbed their tongues together, then Sören reached down to anoint his fingers once more and applied the precum to Dooku's nipple, lapping it off.

They kissed and Dooku rasped, "I want to do to you what you did to me."

Sören smirked. "You mean like this?" Dooku watched with great interest as Sören rubbed precum onto his own nipple, and leaned in for Dooku to suck, which he did feverishly, going out of his mind with lust. When Sören anointed his other nipple Dooku licked and suckled that as well, with Sören clutching his head, panting and gasping.

Then Dooku pulled back and said, "You know what I mean. What you did..." He gestured to the lower half of his body.

Sören nipped Dooku's lower lip before giving him a more gentle kiss. "I want to hear you say it."

Dooku felt shy and self-conscious - so undignified, so ungentlemanly - but he was also desperate with need and desire. He'd never been so completely undone, and he loved that feeling of being out of control, being all animal hunger and heat. Their eyes met, and Dooku slipped his index finger through the ring in Sören's cock, possessively. "I want to devour you."

With a wicked grin, Sören climbed up Dooku's body, and straddled his shoulders, so his ass was right in Dooku's face. After a few teasing licks at the sensitive spot between Sören's balls and ass, Dooku stuck his tongue inside and once he found that magic button he showed no mercy, eating Sören with relish as Sören wailed and whimpered and howled with pleasure. Dooku was rock-hard again, but only gently stroked himself, teasing himself as he tongue-fucked Sören as fast and furious as he could, lips suctioning around the opening.

Before Sören, never in a million years did Dooku think he'd ever do something like this and enjoy it, and that feeling of giving himself completely over to such debauchery was exhilarating, as exciting to him as the taste of Sören's flesh, the sounds Sören made in response, what he knew from experience Sören was feeling at each lash of his tongue. He loved this; he'd waited too damn long to finally indulge the curiosity he'd had since he was a young man at boarding school. And it was fitting to be with the man he'd fallen in love with, the one who had somehow thawed the ice and brought sunshine and color to his world. This wasn't just an act of lust, but an act of love. He wanted to please Sören, to give him ecstasy, the purest, truest feeling of what it was to be alive. When Sören at last climaxed, the sight and sound of him screaming as his cock sprayed the headboard and the wall almost brought Dooku to another orgasm with the sheer beauty of it. He could feel Sören's joy across their Force bond, and as he pulled Sören into his waiting arms, he heard himself saying "I love you," over and over again, like a mantra.

Sören rested in his arms as he came down, and then Sören nuzzled him, smiling. "Thank you," he whispered.

Dooku kissed the tip of his nose, smiling back.

Sören reached for Dooku's hard cock. "I take it you enjoyed yourself."

"Do you even have to ask?"

"I like to hear you say it." Sören nibbled Dooku's neck, making him gasp and shiver as electricity shot through him, directly to his already aching cock. "I like hearing you want me as badly as I want you."

"I want you," Dooku said. He kissed Sören, and then he nipped Sören's lower lip the way Sören often nipped his, looking into Sören's eyes. "I want to fuck you as hard as you've ever been fucked."

Sören moaned with approval. "Fuck, _yes._ "

Sören straddled Dooku's hips, and sank down on Dooku's cock. Dooku groaned at the sight of Sören's channel taking him, until he was buried to the hilt. Sören rested, getting adjusted to the length and thickness of him, and then worked his hips slowly, the cock gliding in and out, before Sören pressed down on Dooku's chest and started bouncing on his cock, riding with abandon.

Dooku gripped Sören's hips and matched his rhythm, driving into him mercilessly. The feeling and sound of his balls slapping Sören's ass drove them both wild, making Dooku groan and Sören cry out. Sören's fingers teased Dooku's nipples as he rode, and Dooku loved every minute of it, never wanting to stop, as badly as he wanted to come. The raw, hot sex was too delicious, and he savored it... especially the sight of Sören riding him, and at the end, stroking himself feverishly. When Sören's orgasm hit him and his hot cum shot across Dooku's chest and stomach, Dooku let go, coming hard. The knowledge that he was coming inside Sören's ass and Sören loved feeling it made his orgasm intense, toe-curling, mind-numbing bliss.

Sören collapsed on top of him and they kissed deeply, then pulled apart gasping for breath... breathing each other's breath. Their foreheads touched and their noses nuzzled, and Dooku looked into Sören's eyes, letting out a shuddery sigh at the love he saw within them. Sören reached out to stroke Dooku's cheek, and whiskers, and gave him a soft, lingering kiss.

"I love you," Sören husked.

Dooku smiled. " _Ég elska þig._ "

Sören laughed. "Your Icelandic is still awful." But there were tears in his eyes now, touched by the effort to speak his language. He clasped Dooku's hand in his, and kissed it, before pressing it to his heart with a little squeeze. "But it sounds beautiful."

Dooku kissed him hard, and then pulled Sören close, melting into joy.

They drifted off to sleep together in each other's arms, and Dooku woke a few hours later to watch Sören, still sleeping. He smiled fondly at the mop of tousled curls, the long lashes, the little smile on those full lips. Not able to help himself, he peppered kisses over Sören's face, and when he started raining kisses over Sören's beard, nuzzling it, he felt himself harden again; Sören kissed him back, and Dooku deepened the kiss, before his lips moved to Sören's neck.

Sören moaned, craning his neck to bare his throat, and Dooku licked and kissed that, too, making Sören moan louder. Sören's nails dug into Dooku's back, and Dooku groaned at the sweet sting, loving it. He nibbled the place where the neck met the shoulder, making Sören cry out, and then Dooku picked his head up and cupped Sören's chin in his hand, making Sören look through sleepy eyes to meet his hungry gaze. "I want you," Dooku said, and his free hand took Sören's hand, to place on his hard cock.

"Mmmmm, good." Sören kissed him. "And what do you want, _elskan mín_?"

"Take me." Dooku's voice shook with desire. "Be one with me." His voice got softer as he said, "Fuck me."

Sören kissed him again. He gently rolled Dooku onto his back, and they kissed as Sören fingered him, first one finger, then two, then three, rubbing his prostate. When Sören had three fingers inside of him, he started kissing Dooku's nipples, using his free hand to rub and pluck one nipple as his lips and tongue pleasured the other. It was all Dooku could do to not come right then and there, and at last he surprised himself by grabbing Sören's head and kissing him with a fierce growl.

" _Now_ ," he rasped. Then more gently, "Please."

Sören grinned, and used the Force to bring over the bottle of lube that was now always present on their bedtable. Sören poured lube over his own cock, and poured some directly into Dooku's channel, and then guided the tip in. Dooku had only bottomed for Sören three times thus far, so though he was more used to it, Sören was still a tight fit, and Dooku breathed and pushed through the initial discomfort. At last Sören was in him, and Dooku took Sören's hands and squeezed them.

"My love."

Sören leaned in to give Dooku a deep kiss, taking his first thrust slowly.

Sören took it slow, and gentle. He was a sensual, deliberate lover, wanting to make it good for Dooku - he made it good for both of them, moaning as Dooku's channel wrapped around his cock again and again, letting Dooku feel his pleasure across their Force bond.

"You have such a hot arse," Sören groaned. "So... fucking... good."

Dooku loved that. He also loved the feel of the ring in Sören's cock rubbing against his prostate. The slow, delicious rubbing felt better and better, until Dooku was writhing underneath Sören, gasping, panting, melting to Sören's cock, almost seeing stars at the way Sören stroked inside him, playing him like a master played a violin.

Sören kept it slow until the last possible minute - until they were both shaking, making inhuman, feral noises - and then Sören put Dooku's legs on his shoulders and showed no mercy, pounding harder and faster. Sören took Dooku's cock in his hand, working it in rhythm with his hips, the slap of his balls, and Dooku arched to him, giving himself completely.

"You're mine," Sören growled. "You're mine to fuck, and I'm gonna make you come so fucking hard..."

"Please." It was almost a sob. "Sören, I'm so close..."

"Come for me."

Dooku gasped and cried out " _Sören_ , oh god, yes," as he watched his cock shoot over Sören's chest. With one last hard thrust Sören shuddered, letting out a wordless cry. The feeling of Sören coming inside him made Dooku shoot again, and this time he did sob, shattered with the release, throbbing so intensely it almost hurt. Nothing had ever felt better, and he had never felt closer, more connected, to someone in his life. Tears overcame him, and Sören cried with him, moved at what he could feel across their bond.

They held each other, kissing, crying.

"You're not alone anymore," Sören husked between kisses. "You belong to me now."

Dooku had no words for that - what he felt went beyond words. He threw his arms around Sören and kissed him deeply, as deep as his love.

They lay there together, lost in the afterglow, and finally Dooku looked at the clock. It was early evening now - they'd been in bed all day. When he showed Sören, Sören's laughter rang out.

"You've never spent all day in bed, have you?" Sören asked.

"Not unless I'm ill, and even then I would usually work out of my bed." Dooku sighed, and chuckled. "I don't know what's become of me, but I like it."

"I like it too." Sören kissed the tip of Dooku's nose. "Everyone deserves a day off now and again."

Dooku stroked Sören's curls, and then his face, his beard. "What shall we do for dinner? We have leftover pizza but it isn't much."

"We can save that as a snack," Sören said. "You feel like going anywhere?"

"Not especially." Dooku laughed.

Sören smiled. "Do you care if I go get takeaway and bring it back here?"

"No, I don't mind."

Sören came back with Indian food. They ate curry and chicken tikka in their pajamas in the living room, watching the BBC together. Sören took a call from Frankie afterwards, who was still upset about her ex but trying to keep it together. As Sören was on the phone, Dooku cleaned up a little, collecting the trash and putting it outside for the garbage collector. Then he was greeted at the door by Sören, with a kiss.

They made their way to the shower, lazily and sensually soaping each other, kissing and holding each other under the running water. Naked, they walked back to the bed together, and cuddled, necking until they were both dripping precum. Dooku and Sören were both too exhausted to fuck again, so Sören remedied their need by taking them both in his hand. Dooku covered Sören's hand with his, and they kissed as Sören stroked them to one last climax, the two of them coming at the same time, coming harder at the sight of their cocks coming together, cock coming on cock, making a mess all over them. They kissed through the endless pulse of their orgasm, and then just held each other, content.

Dooku set his alarm to go back to work tomorrow, and fed Dragos, and climbed back in bed. Sören snuggled against him, making little cozy noises. Dooku sighed, his arms tightening around the younger man.

After a little while he said, "Sören."

There was silence, and Dooku wondered if Sören was asleep yet, but he got back a "Hm?"

"Thank you." Dooku smiled. "This has been the best day of my life."

Sören looked up, flashed that brilliant smile that Dooku loved so much, and gave him a soft, sweet kiss. "There'll be many more where that came from."


	18. Chapter 18

On the day of Dooku's sixty-ninth birthday, he elected to take a half-day. He would have taken the day completely off, but his chamber insisted on throwing him a small office party, complete with a cake, and a box of various pastries to take home. The birthday celebration was combined with the office Christmas party, so he also got a box of cookies.

Sören was at home, presumably making last-minute preparations, and waiting for Dooku to pick him up so they could go to lunch - Qui had gotten reservations at a Mexican restaurant in London, and in addition to Obi and Sören, had invited Leja, Hans, and even Frankie, and insisted on paying for everyone. But before Dooku stopped home to collect Sören, he went to his physician's office, for the physical he got every year on his birthday.

He hadn't eaten at the party, since he was having fasting blood sugar taken among other bloodwork. He also hadn't had his usual morning tea for the same reason, and was feeling mildly irritable when he arrived at the doctor's office. Nonetheless, he tried to be polite to the physician and his assistants, even when he had to wait what seemed like an unreasonable amount of time to hear his test results.

But finally, his physician came into the exam room, with an envelope containing printouts of the tests. "You've got a clean bill of health," Dr. Kingsley proclaimed.

"Good." Dooku hadn't expected otherwise, necessarily, but it was still a relief just the same.

"It's quite remarkable, aging has been quite kind to you."

"I try to take care of myself."

"Whatever you're doing, keep it up." Then the doctor's voice dropped. "Speaking of keeping it up, you'd mentioned that you're sexually active now. Are you having any... problems? Do you need Viagra?"

Dooku snorted. "No, I don't, but thank you for offering." His face burned and he felt like he could die of embarrassment.

"You're very sure? Erectile dysfunction is very common among men your age, there's nothing to be ashamed of if it's happening, it's easily remedied..."

"I'm quite sure." Dooku nodded and couldn't make it out of the exam room fast enough. "Have a pleasant day, Doctor Kingsley," he said over his shoulder, not wanting to be rude. He gave a curt nod to the secretary in the lobby, and as soon as he stepped into the elevator he said " _oh god_ " under his breath, mortified.

It wasn't simply that his doctor had brought up something so personal - even though Dooku understood sexual activity was a part of health and his doctor was obliged to ask; he'd been in the mood for sex when his alarm went off, and Sören teased that he'd never let him out of the bed, promising sex later and saying it would be very special and worth the wait. Dooku wasn't just hungry for food, he was hungry for his bondmate, and didn't need the reminder of sex right then.

Of course, Dooku had to hit traffic, which would make them late for the lunch reservation, and of course his mind wandered as he sat there, tormenting him with everything he wanted to do to Sören and have Sören do to him.

By the time Dooku arrived at his home in Bermondsey he was actually swearing under his breath, feeling like he wanted to stab something. And when Sören greeted him at the door with a kiss, that sweet, radiant smile made it all better.

Sören was already ready to go, looking delectable in the same outfit he'd worn the day he and Dooku first met - a ruffly black shirt reminiscent of poets or pirates, a pair of black leather pants, and his usual Doc Martens boots. He was wearing a slight touch of mascara and eyeliner, just enough to accentuate his pretty dark eyes. Some of his nape-length hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, with the rest down, and it had tamed his curls somewhat. Two small silver hoops gleamed in each ear, matching the silver chain he wore, and the silver sparkles in his black nail polish. Dooku smiled a little, remembering how Sören's painted nails had initially aggravated him, and now he found it endearing and even a little sexy. Sören looked like a rock star, and Dooku definitely wanted to be his groupie.

As it was late December, snowy and cold, Dooku helped Sören put on a trenchcoat. Though they were running late, Dooku couldn't resist giving Dragos a few last pettings.

The commute to London in more afternoon traffic was annoying enough that Dooku had Sören call Qui to explain their lateness. Qui, Obi, Leja, Hans and Frankie were all there already, and thankfully they understood or were at least too polite to give up and go home. Finally they got there, almost twenty minutes late.

Dooku had insisted on no presents - he didn't want anyone spending money on him, especially not Sören. Nonetheless, Qui had a gift, of sorts.

There was a large ceramic bowl - Leja herself had made it, and it was glazed to look like the colors of a sunset. The bowl was filled with sand and some pebbles.

"You got me sand," Dooku said, dryly.

Qui gestured. "Look more closely."

One of the rocks was shaped like buttocks. The look on Dooku's face made everyone at the table laugh but Dooku.

"What. Is. That."

"It's a lithops," Qui said, smiling. "It's a succulent, so you want to keep it in sun, keep it warm, and don't water it often."

"That's not a rock? It's a plant?"

"What did I just say?"

Dooku glared at Qui, who glared back, and then grinned.

"Well," Dooku said, "it's hard to tell, since it looks like... a rock."

"And a butt," Sören said.

"It is indeed a plant. It will eventually flower given time." Qui pulled out his cell phone and showed them pictures of flowering lithops.

"I like it," Sören said. "We have a cat, we should have a plant."

Hearing Sören say "we" made Dooku's heart race and his stomach flutter. He squeezed Sören's hand under the table, and Sören squeezed back.

"Yes, indeed," Qui said. "Celebrate your life together. And I can think of no better way to do that than with a plant shaped like -"

Dooku almost choked on his drink. "Dear _god._ "

The waiter came over after that to take everyone's order. The group got quesadilla appetizers and Dooku ordered enchiladas that came with a side of rice and beans; Sören ordered a combination platter of chicken tacos and burritos. The waiter left them with baskets of freshly-baked tortilla chips and just-made salsa.

The service was fast and they got their meals in no time. Dooku was grateful to finally eat, and just listened as Hans talked about his recent travels, including running into Kylo in Berlin, a visit that didn't go so well.

"He wanted me to hire him a lawyer," Hans said.

Dooku finally had to say something about that. "He's a rock star signed to a major label and he wanted _you_ to pay for his legal help? _Really._ "

Hans nodded solemnly.

"He's always been a bit of a spoiled, entitled brat with a chip on his shoulder, but that is something else," Dooku said.

"You've met Margrét, now," Leja said, "so you know why Kylo's being sued." _And you know why this is such a sore subject for me, now,_ she added in the Force.

"I have no sympathy for him," Dooku said. "I've heard that Margrét has proof of what's hers, documented in e-mails, videos, and the like." _And I heard Kylo made some inappropriate remarks to her, like a snotty little shit._

"Good." Leja nodded, with her lips pursed. "Since he's technically a UK citizen still I have had concerns he might come to you for help as an old friend of the family -"

"Margrét is family now too," Dooku said.

The look of elation on Sören's face took Dooku's breath away, and he couldn't help smiling into his next bite of food.

Leja smiled, as well.

Hans coughed, flushing slightly. "That she is."

Dooku almost choked on his food - he knew Leja and Margrét were involved, but hadn't realized that Hans was also involved somehow. He raised his eyebrow, and then a glass of wine. Hans gave a guilty grin and raised his glass as well.

"I keep hearing about this sister of yours," Frankie said to Sören, "and I really want to meet her."

"Well, you'll get your chance very soon. She's flying in, in two days." Sören smirked. "I've told her about you too, and she's curious to meet you."

"I think the two of you would get it on very well," Leja said. Then she realized her slip, cleared her throat, and said, "Get on, I mean," before chugging on wine.

Sören let the remark go without making innuendo, and simply took out his phone and began showing Frankie some of the pictures from Iceland that he hadn't gotten a chance to show her yet, including and especially the scenes from Katrín's funeral, with Margrét sitting on the roof of an SUV smoking a joint, middle fingers in the air, and Margrét pissing on Katrín's grave.

"I already like her," Frankie said, laughing.

"Good," Leja said. "She's very likable, and I think it would be good for her to make... a friend."

Frankie gave Leja a quizzical look, and Leja threw a save. "She was very close to my son Kylo, and they had a bit of a falling out and since then she's kind of withdrawn socially, and that's not healthy for her."

"No," Dooku said. "I can attest to that myself."

Qui patted and squeezed Dooku's shoulder. "It's good to see you coming out of your shell again."

Dooku smiled at Sören, who beamed back. "I've had some help."

The waiter came back to inquire on how everything was, and if anyone wanted dessert. Dooku decided he would have flan, and after he ordered his flan, Qui cleared his throat loudly and pointed to Dooku, telling the waiter, "It's his birthday."

"I see, _señor_." The waiter nodded, grinning. "It's on the house, then."

The grin that Qui-Gon had informed Dooku that Qui was happy about something other than getting a few dollars off the impending bill for one less dessert to pay. His suspicion was confirmed correct when a few minutes later, the waiter returned with a tray of desserts - including Dooku's flan, set with a lit candle...

...and the waiter was followed by a group of other restaurant staff. Waitresses and waiters put a sombrero on everyone's head - Dooku and Sören matched in large, garish green sombreros - and then a mariachi band came forward, with the dramatic strum of a flamenco guitar as they approached the table.

The singer of the mariachi band, an older man perhaps Dooku's age, began to sing

 _Feliz cumpleaños a ti_  
_Feliz cumpleaños a ti_  
_Feliz cumpleaños querido Dooku_  
_Feliz cumpleaños a ti._

Then the singer yelled " _¡Olé!_ " and the band played it again, faster this time, as more waitstaff brought out a giant green-and-pink papier-mache llama, which was hoisted up on strings, dangling from supports on the ceiling. The singer handed Dooku a baton as he was singing, and Dooku looked at the baton and the rest of the group, feeling extremely awkward.

"Go on, hit it," Qui encouraged.

Dooku glared at him just before he was blindfolded - Dooku heard Sören say "Ooh, kinky" which got Leja laughing hysterically - and then the band and waitstaff stood back as Dooku walked to the center of the dining hall. Dooku felt utterly ridiculous, but he decided to humor Qui and Sören and gave a fencing salute with the baton before using the Force to find the piñata and, without the Force, take a swing. He heard the piñata crack, and the sound of a lot of small things dropping to the floor. When he removed the blindfold he saw wrapped candy everywhere.

Sören snapped a few photos of him before coming over with a basket to collect candy, excited like a big kid, and Sören's happiness made the ridiculousness of it all worth it. Though Dooku still glared when Sören took a selfie of them together wearing the sombreros, and again once they were seated back at the table and Sören snapped more sombrero-clad candids of the group.

Their waiter informed them they could take the sombreros home, and Sören and Qui wore theirs out of the restaurant on the way to the car. Obi finally snatched the sombrero off Qui's head - "you need to see to drive," he said, though everyone knew it wasn't because of that, and was because Obi couldn't take him seriously with that on. Sören couldn't fit in the Jaguar without knocking his sombrero off, so he carried it into the car - Dooku breathed a sigh of relief, and then made a noise once they were on the road and Sören put it back on his head.

"You know..." Dooku started.

Sören cut him off with a grin. "Yes, I know."

 

_

Dooku's first order of business when he got in was to find a safe space for the bowl with his new lithops plant - somewhere that would get enough sunlight, and where it could be seen but Dragos couldn't disturb it. His temporary solution was to bring over a barstool he never used, set it by the sunniest window in the kitchen, and put the bowl on top of it. Sören looked at it, then raised his index finger, and went down to the linen closet in the hall. He came back with a damask cloth meant for a small end table, which he draped over the stool, and set the bowl back on top. He also had a few geode chunks from his personal belongings that he artfully arranged around the bowl. The cloth and crystals went nicely with the bowl and made everything look more put together.

The basket of candy from the restaurant and boxes of cookies and pastries from Dooku's chamber were set on the table, and Dooku put on tea. Once tea was ready, he brought out the tea service and flopped onto the couch with a sigh.

Sören sat down next to him, and they drank tea together in companionable silence. Then Sören put his cup down once he'd finished and leaned in to Dooku, pressing their foreheads together. "You all right, love?"

Dooku nodded. He closed his eyes and opened them. "I've just had a lot to do today, this is my first chance to really and truly relax."

"Awwwwwww, _elskan._ " Sören pet Dooku's face and whiskers, and kissed the tip of his nose. Then he grabbed one of Dooku's legs. Before Dooku could ask what Sören was doing, he watched Sören lay the leg across his lap, and Sören peeled off the sock. Then Sören began to rub Dooku's foot.

The foot massage felt incredible, and Dooku could feel the Force flowing through Sören's hands, for that little extra touch of tender loving care. The adoring look Sören gave Dooku as he rubbed and kneaded was just as good as the massage itself, and Dooku relaxed, melting to his bondmate.

After awhile Sören put Dooku's leg down and propped up the other one, to give the same treatment to the other foot. Dooku leaned back against the couch, his relaxation deepening, floating away.

At last Sören pulled him close, and with Dooku's back against Sören's chest, Sören reached to rub his shoulders and neck. Dooku heard himself moan as the tension flooded out of him.

"So, love?" Sören asked.

"Hm?"

"How did your physical go?"

That snapped Dooku back to attention. "Oh." His brain struggled for a moment to find words, after being putty in Sören's hands. "It went well. Clean bill of health, as I receive every year."

"That's good." Sören nuzzled him. "You're in such good shape, I would have been surprised otherwise."

Dooku reached up and patted Sören's hand. "I try to take care of myself." The same thing he told his doctor earlier. He felt somewhat sheepish about it, and like it was such a remarkable thing that a man his age could be in good condition. "Sixty-nine isn't a death sentence." _Isn't it, though? Weren't you feeling your mortality before you met Sören, wondering if you would die alone, in your grief and loneliness?_

Sören snickered. Dooku turned his head then to give Sören a look. "What's so funny?"

Sören laughed harder. "You really don't know."

"No, I do not."

"Well, my love, today you are going to learn something new." Sören's lips quirked with amusement. "But first... I have a birthday present for you."

"Oh dear god." Dooku sighed. "I asked you to not spend money on me, dear -"

Sören put a finger to his lips. Then he kissed Dooku, softly and sweetly. As Dooku made a little murmur of protest about the present, Sören pulled away with a wicked grin. "It doesn't involve money," Sören said.

"What does it involve?"

Sören got up from the couch, still grinning. Just before Dooku could get up and follow, Sören raised his palm slightly. "Stay there. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Then from the bedroom, Sören called, "You know, I have a better idea - why don't you slip into something more comfortable and I'll meet you back in the living room?"

"Something more comfortable?" Dooku called back. "Like what?"

"Like your pajamas, maybe."

Dooku got up, and by the time he made it down the hall - moving slowly, still in bliss from Sören's massage - Sören closed the door to the guest bathroom in the hall, presumably up to something. With a chuckle at whatever Sören was up to, Dooku retrieved his pajamas from the bedroom closet and got out of his cape, tunic and trousers. It felt odd to be putting on bedtime apparel when it was still daylight, but he felt a little relief nonetheless - it was time to unwind and enjoy himself.

Sören was still in the bathroom when Dooku was changed. He took his seat on the living room couch and waited.

Dooku made a sound of surprise when he watched Sören's portable Mp3 player and speakers float into the living room, Sören moving them from down the hall with the Force. Dooku watched the small soundsystem assemble on the coffee table, and then Sören called down, "Are you ready?"

"I guess so," Dooku replied.

The Mp3 player turned on. There was the flourish of a Spanish guitar, and a voice called out, " _Ay._ " Then, " _¡Fonsi!_ "

Sören came out in the same leather pants as before, but wearing a black button-down shirt. He swayed as he walked, hips swiveling in time to the music.

 _¡Oh!_  
_Tú, tú eres el imán y yo soy el metal_  
_Me voy acercando y voy armando el plan_  
_Sólo con pensarlo se acelera el pulso_  
_Ya, ya me está gustando más de lo normal_  
_Todos mis sentidos van pidiendo más_  
_Esto hay que tomarlo sin ningún apuro_

Sören was in front of Dooku now, and gave Dooku a smoldering, seductive look just before the beat got harder.

 _Despacito_  
_Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito_  
_Deja que te diga cosas al oído_  
_Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo_  
_Despacito_  
_Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito_  
_Firmo en las paredes de tu laberinto_  
_Y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito_  
_(Sube, sube, sube, sube, sube)_

Sören was starting to unbutton his shirt now, still keeping time with the music, still working his pelvis suggestively. Dooku ached to touch the exposed flesh, but Sören was just out of reach, teasing him. Sören danced to the next verse with his shirt unbuttoned but still on, and at the next "Despacito", Sören peeled his shirt off and threw it at Dooku.

Sören came closer, shirtless, dancing in Dooku's lap. Sören took Dooku's hands and ran them over his chest, and then guided them to his belt buckle, to the fly and zipper of his leather pants. Then Sören moved back - Dooku almost whined in frustration - and Sören, somehow, managed to continue working his hips and ass to the Latin beat as he slowly worked his leather pants downward. Underneath the leather pants Sören was wearing a silky pair of black boxer-briefs, and was semi-erect. Once the leather pants were off, Sören shimmied back to Dooku, and got in his lap again, dancing, letting Dooku caress him as he danced.

By the end of the song - which wasn't very long at all, just under four minutes - Sören's cock was fully hard, and in Dooku's hand, though his underwear was still on, and Sören was sitting in Dooku's lap. They finished the song with a kiss.

"You've never had a lapdance before," Sören said.

"No." Dooku continued playing with Sören's cock. "I... enjoyed that."

Sören nuzzled him and groped his hard-on. "I can tell."

"So that was my present?" Dooku smiled.

"It was one of your presents," Sören said.

"Oh, dear." Dooku chuckled. "You _didn't_ spend money on me, did you?"

"No," Sören said. "Any other questions, Mister Barrister?"

Dooku gave Sören that look, and Sören stuck out his tongue.

"You said I would learn why the number sixty-nine amuses you... are you going to teach me?" Dooku raised an eyebrow.

"We're getting there. Would you like some cake first?"

"You made me a cake?"

"I sure did." Sören beamed.

"I feel like I'd be overindulging in sweets after the flan, but since you went to the trouble -"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, live a little." Sören walked to the kitchen in his underwear.

Sören came out with a medium-sized frosted red velvet cake. There were two candles on the cake, making the number 69, and beneath them, Sören had drawn a "dickbutt" in red icing. Dooku facepalmed at the sight of it, groaning and laughing at the same time.

"I only put two candles on the cake because it would have been a lot of fucking candles otherwise," Sören said.

"That's fine." Dooku shook his head. "You did... er... more than enough."

Sören used the Force to light the candles on the cake, and then leaned up on Dooku and sang in a breathy voice:

 _Happy birthday to you_  
_Happy birthday... to... you_  
_Happy birthday... I-on Ni-co-lae_  
_Happy birrrrrthdayyyyyy_  
_tooooo yooooooouuuu_

It reminded Dooku of Marilyn Monroe singing "Happy Birthday Mr. President", but sillier, and yet, somehow the silliness made it sexier. Dooku blushed, and blew out the candles.

"The cake looks nice," Dooku said, "that wretched drawing notwithstanding."

"I worked _very hard_ on that wretched drawing," Sören said, mock hurt in his voice, attempting a wink at the innuendo of "very hard".

"I'm sure you did."

"So it just looks nice?" Sören smirked. He began cutting a piece of cake.

"It just looks nice, yes." Dooku smirked back. "You look more appetizing."

"You know what?" Sören held a small plate of cake just out of Dooku's reach.

"What?"

" _You._ Are. A. Pervert." With a wicked grin, Sören used the Force to fling the plate of cake at Dooku, and it went all over him.

Before Dooku could react, Sören took the cake pan and cake knife and ran down the hall with it. "You want some of this, come and get me."

Dooku sat stunned for a moment, and then used the Force to grab a wad of tissues out of the tissue box and pick up the cake mess. He still had frosting on his pajamas. After disposing of the mess, he stormed into the bedroom. And as soon as he set foot in the bedroom, he was greeted with another cake missile.

The covers were off the bed, and Sören was sitting on the bed in his underwear and the pan of cake, with an evil grin. Dooku charged towards the bed. "You little brat," he growled.

Sören gave a yelp. Before he could throw another piece of cake, Dooku was on the bed, and he scooped off the cake bits that clung to him and mashed them in Sören's face.

But before he could take his hand away, Sören licked it, and the feel of Sören's tongue made his aching cock throb. He watched Sören lick cake from his lips - again, making his cock twinge.

"We should get your pajamas in the wash before they're permanently stained," Sören said.

"Yes, we should."

Sören reached out to help Dooku get his pajama top off, and ripped at the silky fabric. The rip left Dooku's chest exposed, and Sören gave him a hungry look, running his hand through the white chest hair. Then Sören did the same with Dooku's pajama bottoms, ripping them.

Dooku was starting to leak precum now. His head was spinning, his mouth suddenly dry. He tried to think of how to respond, but he couldn't think, just lust.

Grinning again, Sören cut another piece of cake from the pan, and mashed it into Dooku's chest, rubbing it all over Dooku's chest and stomach, and then took some of it and mashed it into Dooku's face. Then he shoved Dooku down onto his back and admired his handiwork - Dooku shuddered, not just at the heat in his bondmate's gaze but how utterly debauched he felt, like this - and then Sören began eating cake off of him. Not simply eating the cake, but licking him clean, starting with the mess on his sensitive abs, then licking all over his chest - especially the nipples, deliberately licking and sucking those - but then lapping his face like a dog. It was cute, and it was incredibly stimulating. Dooku shuddered, moaning, and when Sören had finished cleaning him with his tongue, Sören claimed his mouth with a kiss and Dooku heard himself whimper into the kiss, feeling self-conscious at how undignified that was but _fuck_ , he wanted Sören and couldn't help it.

Sören scooped some cake from the pan with his fingers now, and fed Dooku out of his hand, and when Dooku licked and kissed his palm, licked and sucked his fingers clean, Sören skritched his beard and purred, "Mmmmm, yes."

As they kissed again, Dooku reached with the Force to cut a piece of cake from the pan and then he gave Sören a face and torso full of cake, making him absolutely filthy with it. He rolled Sören onto his back and proceeded to give him the same treatment, eating cake off of his naked chest and stomach, making sure to lick his nipples extra clean, tongue grooming his face, especially Sören's beard, knowing Sören's jaw was sensitive.

When Dooku finished cleaning Sören, they kissed and Sören husked, "How was that?"

"Delicious." Dooku smiled. "And the cake was good too."

Sören laughed, and said, "I hope you still have an appetite."

Dooku simply took Sören's hand and wrapped it around his hard, leaking cock. Sören groaned appreciatively and began stroking it, slowly.

Sören kissed him, and when they pulled apart for air, Sören rasped, "I'm pretty hungry myself."

"Are you now."

Their eyes met. Sören stopped stroking Dooku's cock. He got up, took off his boxer-briefs, and then surveyed the mess of Dooku's ruined pajamas with a guilty chuckle. "Uh, I'll replace those."

"They were rather expensive."

"Ah. Shit."

Dooku laughed too. "I can afford another pair." He smirked. "I've never had my clothing ripped off. I enjoyed being manhandled."

"I've been thinking about doing that for awhile." Sören climbed back on the bed. "You don't know how many times I've fantasized about ripping your clothes off and just ravishing you."

Dooku flushed, feeling flattered and flustered all at once again. "You called me a pervert, but that is far filthier than any thoughts I've had." He stroked Sören's face and hair. "I like it."

Sören smiled and said, "Good."

They kissed again, and Sören moved the cake pan - which didn't have much left - to the bedtable. He resumed stroking Dooku's cock and said, "It's time I teach you what sixty-nine means."

"So it's not just a number."

Sören laughed and shook his head. "No, it's not." Then Sören laughed again. When Dooku raised an eyebrow, Sören said, "You mentioned awhile back you're descended from Romanian nobility."

"Yes...?"

Sören laughed and wheezed, "I'm... teaching... the Count... about sixty-nine."

Dooku groaned. "That's bad even for you."

"Yes, yes it is."

Dooku kissed Sören hard and rasped, "I think we should find something more useful to do with that sassy mouth of yours."

Sören grinned. "Well, _elskan_ , it happens that's exactly what sixty-nine is."

Sören pushed Dooku down on his back, and then climbed on top of him, but so his head was between Dooku's legs, and his cock and ass was in Dooku's face. Sören took Dooku's cock into his mouth, and Dooku groaned. He loved sucking Sören's cock and eating his ass, and couldn't resist with it in his face. As he took Sören's cock into his mouth, the realization clicked in his head, that their bodies made the shape of the numbers, with their heads between each other's legs.

Sören felt that realization through their Force bond and patted him, taking the cock out of his mouth. "You got it now?"

"Mmmmmmmm."

Sören laughed and took Dooku's cock back into his mouth.

They sucked each other for a long time, enjoying themselves, savoring the excitement and pleasure of sucking and being sucked. They sucked slowly at first, working their tongues with their mouths full. After awhile Dooku began licking and sucking Sören's balls, which made Sören moan around Dooku's cock. When Sören returned the attention, taking slow, teasing licks at Dooku's balls, Dooku responded by dipping his tongue into Sören's channel, finding the sweet spot with his tongue and letting loose, tongue-fucking him hard. Sören's hips bucked and he let out a howl. Soon Sören was fucking his face, and Dooku grabbed Sören's hips and buried his nose in Sören's crack, devouring him, growling into him. Dooku felt ready to come just from that, and having his balls licked and sucked. Sören grabbed Dooku's hips and rolled him onto his side, and then Sören began rimming him as well, making him crazy with lust and sensation.

Before Dooku could come like that, Sören took Dooku's cock back in his mouth and sucked him harder, faster; one of Sören's hands cupped and rubbed his balls. Dooku continued eating Sören's ass, but he could feel Sören's precum dripping all over his neck, down his chest, and he realized Sören was close and he wanted to taste him. Dooku started sucking Sören again, with Sören making encouraging moans. Sören's other hand now moved to Dooku's opening, and Dooku let out a little cry as he felt two of Sören's fingers push inside him, rubbing the prostate just the way he liked it. The feel of Sören's mouth on his cock as his balls and prostate were being rubbed was exquisite, and Dooku felt his balls tightening, the tension building in his cock, ready to explode. Dooku slipped a finger inside Sören and worked Sören's prostate; Sören started working his hips, losing control. Sören frenziedly fucking his fingers and his mouth made him even more excited, and he groaned around Sören's cock, reaching with his other hand to caress Sören's back and ass, feel every inch of his bondmate's flesh that he could, hungry for all of him.

The tension continued to build until Dooku was shaking from head to toe. When Sören stopped thrusting into his mouth, and whimpered around his cock, Dooku knew what was about to happen, and braced himself. He was still unprepared for how much cum there was, almost making him choke. He swallowed as much of it as he could, greedy for it, and Sören filling his mouth triggered his own release. Sören let out a "mmmmmm" with his mouth still full - still drinking him - and knowing Sören was enjoying his cum as much as he was enjoying Sören's made him shoot again.

Sören licked Dooku's cock clean, giving him little aftershocks of pleasure, and then Sören rested his head on Dooku's stomach, nuzzling the little bit of body hair he had across his abdomen, leading down to his navel. Dooku finally sat up, just to pull Sören up with him, and then lay back down with Sören snuggled into his chest, his arms around the younger man.

"That was incredible," Dooku said after a few moments of contented silence.

"Yes, it was." Sören nuzzled his beard and kissed the tip of his nose. "I was hoping you'd like that."

"Like is an understatement." Dooku stroked Sören's hair and face, and met his eyes. "I loved that." He smiled and gave Sören a soft, lingering kiss. "I love you."

"I love you." Sören smiled back. He nuzzled Dooku's beard again. "I wanted to give you a good birthday even though you told me not to spend money on you." Sören patted Dooku's shoulder. "Speaking of, I have one last present to give you."

"Oh?"

Dooku closed his eyes, still lost in the bliss of afterglow, and he opened them when Sören tapped him. There was the striped red-orange-and-green "Willy Warmer" snake that Sören had bought at the Icelandic Phallological Museum. Sören moved it towards Dooku's cock, and Dooku made a noise of protest before Sören buried his face in Dooku's shoulder, convulsing with silent laughter, putting the Willy Warmer down next to them.

When Sören picked his head up a few minutes later, Dooku was still glaring and Sören laughed so hard he teared up. "Your face."

"You know..."

" _I know._ " Sören wiped his eyes. He sat up, still shaking from laughter. "That's not actually the present."

"You are such a brat."

"You love it." Sören got off the bed, completely naked. "Here, follow me."

Dooku got off the bed, also naked, and followed him across the hall to the meditation room. Dooku had been in the meditation room recently, and always took a look at Sören's easel to admire works in progress, so somehow whatever Sören was doing in here, he'd managed to hide, as a surprise. Sören used the Force to open up a small cabinet near his easel where he kept art supplies, and pulled out a canvas. He propped it up on a second easel he kept for recently finished work.

The first thing that Dooku noticed about the painting was he and Sören were in it, right in the center. They were in a pool of water from the waist down, but obviously naked, embracing and kissing, a glowing energy surrounding them. They were against the backdrop of an aurora and a starry night sky, that led out to space itself, a spiral galaxy surrounding them.

Dooku's breath caught. His arms broke out into gooseflesh, his nape and spine and arms tingling, the hair standing on end. Tears burned his eyes. He remembered that night in the Nature Baths at Lake Mývatn, the way they'd kissed under the aurora, one of the most wondrous experiences of his entire life; the way he and Sören made love later that night, his first time being inside another, one flesh. He knew that it had been special for Sören too, but here, Sören had captured what words could not express, the feeling of touching the Force together, the feeling of the magic he felt with Sören's love in his life... and realizing that Sören felt the same way.

"You like it?" Sören asked, sounding a little nervous.

Dooku couldn't make words. Caught up in the surge of emotion, he threw his arms around Sören and kissed him hard, mirroring the position in the painting. Sören moaned into the kiss, and kissed him back, and Dooku felt Sören hard again, making his own cock jump in response. Suddenly nothing else mattered. They were going down to the floor together, on one of the mats they sat on for meditation. Sören was on his back, their hard cocks rubbing together as they kissed and their hands roamed, groped, needing to touch, needing to _feel_.

Dooku used the Force to bring over the lube from across the hall, and when Sören saw it his eyes lit up and he nipped Dooku's neck. "Yes, fuck me," Sören growled.

Dooku wasted no time pouring lube over his cock, and into Sören's ass. Sören arched and spread to him, hissing "yes, yes, yes, take me," as Dooku started pushing his way inside. When he was all the way in they both cried out, and then Dooku kissed him again as he began to thrust.

There was none of his usual finesse this time, the slow teasing burn and edging to a shattering release. There was just raw, primal need, the need to mate, the feeling of being in heat for each other, losing control together. Dooku fucked Sören as hard as he could and Sören worked his hips, matched his rhythm, making noises so loud Dooku wondered if the neighbors could hear. It wasn't long before Sören's legs were propped on his shoulders and Dooku couldn't stop moaning himself, Sören felt so good wrapped around him, sweet delicious velvet gripping him, rubbing him, and he was lost in Sören's beauty, Sören's animal passion. Feeling Sören's nails in his back made him even crazier with lust and he found himself nibbling Sören's neck, taking playful love bites at his shoulder, which Sören loved, howling, writhing.

Sören came first, shooting an impressive amount of cum, screaming "Nico, Nico, _Nico,_ I love you, I love you, I fucking love you." Three hard thrusts later Dooku gasped, " _Sören._ " Their eyes met and Dooku started sobbing with the force of his release, so good it almost _hurt_ , throbbing and throbbing and throbbing, breeding deep inside Sören, filling him, with Sören moaning and shaking, spending again at the feeling of Dooku's cum.

They lay there on the floor of the meditation room, spent, breathless. Dooku felt like the room was spinning, then heaving like he was at sea, and then he was just adrift, holding Sören and being held. The spacescape Sören had painted on the meditation room's walls seemed to come to life now, and it felt almost like being cocooned inside the heart of the Force. Dooku found himself crying again, out of joy, euphoria, and Sören kissed his tears, crying with him silently, because as different as they were, at their core Sören knew what was sacred to him, and it was to Sören as well.

It was awhile before they could do anything but lay there. When Dooku pulled out of Sören and they sat up, Sören made a face, and Dooku watched as Sören shifted his position, and looked at where he'd been sitting on the mat. There was now a puddle of cum, and Sören was still leaking.

"Oh my fucking god." Sören's laughter rang out. Then Sören laughed again and said, "I'm gonna queef."

He did. Dooku shook his head, chuckling - only Sören could go from being the sexiest thing alive to being the most ridiculous person he'd ever met, in a matter of seconds, and he loved him for it. He never thought in a million years he'd be laughing at farts, or cum puddles, and here he was, tearing up now with laughter, laughing harder at the absurdity of what his life had become.

Sören went to the bathroom to clean himself up, and Dooku attended to the cum mess in the meditation room, and then the cake mess in the bedroom. It finally occurred to him as he went to the kitchen that he'd been walking around his house naked - strutting, even. He'd never been one for casual nudity, and he'd been doing it more often since he and Sören consummated their relationship - he'd gone from being a prude, self-conscious, to this.

He was laughing to himself once he was back in the bedroom, and when Sören got out he asked, "What's so funny?" Dooku told him.

Sören gave him a mock scandalized face. "We can't have _that_ ," Sören said. "We must protect your modesty!" With that, he finally rolled the Willy Warmer onto Dooku's cock.

Dooku laughed even harder, tearing up again, and couldn't stop laughing when Sören took a few casual photos with his cell phone camera. The worst was when Sören got in the picture and threw gang signs over the Willy Warmer-clad cock.

Then they snuggled. And after they'd been snuggling for awhile and Dooku started dozing off, he woke to the sound of Dragos meowing, and then sat up with a start, realizing he'd just been laying there with the Willy Warmer still on. Sören laughed as Dooku took it off, and laughed harder when Dragos carried the Willy Warmer off in his mouth like it was a cat toy.

With Dragos fed, Dooku came out of the kitchen; Sören was lighting up their small Christmas tree. When he was done, Dooku hugged him. "Thank you for such a lovely birthday," Dooku said.

Sören stroked his face and whiskers. "You're lovely." Sören squeezed his hands. "Now to have a lovely Christmas! I'm excited to see my family again."


	19. Chapter 19

Dooku rented a 3-row SUV to pick up Sören's family at Heathrow Airport. Margrét and Ari were arriving together on one IcelandAir flight, and an hour and a half later, a flight out of Toronto was coming in with Dagnýr and Matt on board. Dooku, Sören, Margrét and Ari had elected to hang around Heathrow to wait for Dagnýr and Matt's arrival rather than try to commute into London in traffic and back again to find a parking space at the airport all over again.

On the way to the airport, Dooku picked up Frankie - Sören had offered to bring Frankie along, since going to airports wasn't something Frankie really did, and the coffee shop was closed for the holidays. Frankie took a nap in the SUV on the way to the airport, and when they were there, Sören poked her until she was awake.

They had a short wait for Margrét and Ari. Sören rushed to them, spending a few minutes hugging each of them tightly, and then he led them over to where Dooku and Frankie had been sitting across from each other. Dooku got up to hug Margrét and shake Ari's hand - Ari then hugged him also, at last - and then Frankie, hesitantly, got up.

"Margrét, Ari, this is my best friend, Frankie," Sören said.

Margrét gave Frankie a bear hug. "I've heard so much about you," Margrét said.

"Good things, I hope." Frankie laughed nervously.

"Já," Margrét said, smiling.

"Would you all like to get coffee or tea while we wait for Dagnýr and Matt?" Ari asked.

"Yes, please," Dooku said.

They went to one of the airport's cafes. Sören and Frankie both had hot chocolate, Dooku had Earl Grey, Ari had a regular latte, and Margrét ordered an espresso. Dooku politely inquired about the flight, which had been uneventful, save for a passenger in front of Margrét and Ari who was snoring loudly.

"Thankfully it's only a three-hour flight," Ari said, "but three hours felt like an eternity listening to that."

"He sounded like a fucking chainsaw," Margrét said. "I finally put my headphones on and listened to something more relaxing, like Die Antwoord."

Frankie's eyes lit up. "Oh my god, you like Die Antwoord too?"

"I fucking love Die Antwoord." Margrét grinned. "They may be rap but they've got a very punk rock attitude and energy."

"You guys have very similar music tastes," Sören said, "and should compare notes. Frankie, make sure to show Margrét your vinyl collection while she's here."

"Oh já you're a fellow vinyl junkie?" Margrét asked.

Frankie nodded. "It's one of my vices. I don't have much money but when I do get money, so much of it goes to vinyl records."

"Nice."

Dooku cleared his throat, suddenly feeling old and awkward. "I'm glad the flight went well, your snoring neighbor notwithstanding."

"The hardest part of this trip for me was saying goodbye to my cat," Ari said. "He's staying with a neighbor till I get back."

"Oh, you've got a kitty?" Frankie smiled.

"I do! Would you like to see pictures?"

For the next little while Ari showed Frankie a bunch of pictures of his cat on his phone, including pictures of Margrét snuggling with the cat. "I keep telling her she should get a cat," Ari said.

"I will eventually," Margrét said, nodding. "It's a big commitment to take care of another living thing for its entire lifespan and I've wanted to make sure that I..." Margrét's voice trailed off then, and Dooku felt the weight of the words unsaid: _wanted to make sure that I'll actually be alive and stable enough for that._ Even though Margrét seemed to be doing well these days, Dooku could only imagine she still struggled with personal demons from growing up with abuse, and battling the dysphoria as long as she did pre-transition.

Sören sensed the change in his sister's mood and reached out to rub and pat her back. "It's OK," he said softly.

Frankie looked a little puzzled, but said nothing, finishing her hot chocolate.

Ari and Margrét wanted to do some Christmas shopping while they waited, explaining that many Icelanders did their shopping on December 23rd. Margrét and Frankie went off together, and Ari came with Dooku and Sören to search various shops at Heathrow. At the designated time, the five met back at a specific waiting area, all five with shopping bags. Sören tried to poke inside Frankie's bag, which resulted in Frankie pinning him down, and Sören tickling her until she squealed, causing a bit of a scene. Margrét physically picked up her younger brother, put him in a headlock, and gave him a noogie - Frankie seemed impressed at the display of strength.

Dagnýr and Matt found them, towing their luggage. They were a bit tired from their seven-hour flight, as well as hungry, so Dooku suggested they all grab a bite to eat. In the SUV, Frankie sat between Ari and Margrét, and the group debated about where to go for food. Everyone could agree on fish and chips, so fish and chips it was.

After the meal it was time to take Ari and Margrét to their hotel in London. Dooku and Sören were only able to put up two of the four unless they made space in the meditation room, which neither were keen on doing, and Ari and Margrét had ceded to Dagnýr and Matt, who had more travel stress and were less enthusiastic about the additional steps of checking into a hotel. After dropping off Ari and Margrét, Dooku drove into Greenwich to drop off Frankie, and Sören and Frankie took a few minutes to confirm Frankie's pick-up time for family Christmas celebrations tomorrow; Frankie would then be celebrating with her aunt on the 25th proper.

Since Dagnýr and Matt were more relaxed after their meal, Dooku took a more detoured route through Bermondsey, so the two Canadians could see the charms of where Dooku and Sören were living. Dooku's own neighborhood was picturesque, tree-lined, with the trees covered in snow and icicles. Dagnýr smiled at the snowman Sören had built in the front lawn.

"Right this way," Dooku said as he marched them inside. He and Sören had agreed it would be good manners to give Dagnýr and Matt their bedroom for the next four days, and they would sleep in the living room, since the couch folded out to a bed. Before picking everyone up at the airport, Dooku had made the bed with fresh linens for their guests. Dagnýr and Matt wheeled their luggage into the bedroom. Dooku opened the closets to show them where they had some room, and then showed them the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

Dagnýr and Matt closed the bedroom door so they could change; Dooku put on tea and Sören put on the BBC. Dagnýr and Matt came out in their pajamas. Dragos was on Sören's lap, purring loudly, and Dagnýr and Matt began to fuss over the cat, making high-pitched noises. Dooku came out to see Dragos being spoiled, and smiled.

There were still leftover cookies from the chamber party on the 21st, that weren't stale, and Dooku brought them out with the tea. Dragos got interested in the cookies, and Dooku discouraged him, getting his attention with cat treats.

Leja called Dooku, to confirm reservations for dinner tomorrow night, and Dooku put Matt on the phone to say hi to his mother. When they got off the phone, Matt smiled, snuggling into Dagnýr. "It'll be nice to see Mum again," Matt said.

"How long has it been?" Dooku asked.

Matt and Dagnýr looked at each other. "Two years?" Matt asked. Dagnýr nodded. "Sounds about right," Dagnýr said.

"I still talk to her and e-mail her regularly," Matt said. "And Dad too. I saw Dad more recently, about four months ago, when he was visiting Toronto on business."

"He was in Berlin as of a few weeks ago," Dooku said. "I assume you... do not keep in touch with..."

"No," Matt said. "I do not, for various reasons."

Dooku nodded and sipped his tea. "Your father says he ran into him in Berlin, and asked your father to hire him a lawyer."

Matt almost spat his tea. "Are you fuckin' serious?"

"Quite."

Matt rolled his eyes. "He makes more money than me and Dag combined and he... what."

"Apparently," Dooku said, "the lawsuit your sister-in-law has against him isn't going well. She has compelling evidence against him."

"Good," Matt said. He shook his head. "I knew the drugs were fucking up his brain, but I didn't -"

"Drugs?" This was new information to Dooku. "He's on drugs?"

"You... didn't know?" Matt raised his eyebrows. He sighed. "Yeah, it's upsetting enough to Mum that of course she wouldn't say anything about it. He's been strung out on heroin for awhile."

"Bloody hell." Dooku sighed. He put his tea down and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why the fuck does anyone need to do that shit," Sören said. "Marijuana's a much better high and it's safer."

"Speaking of." Dagnýr grinned. "You got any?"

Sören nodded. "I have a little, we can finish what I've got left and tomorrow I'll ask Frankie to score me another stash when she can."

Dagnýr looked at Dooku. "You don't mind, do you?"

Sören snorted. "He toked up with me a couple weeks ago."

Dagnýr nodded. "Well, he is a relic from the hippie era -"

Dooku bristled at being called a "relic", and Sören said, "Actually, he never partook back then, because he was busy with school. When he toked up with me it was his first time."

"Oh, wow." Dagnýr said. "Did you like it?"

"I did." Dooku nodded. "I didn't expect I would, but it was very relaxing." Dooku raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised that you smoke, considering -"

"Considering what? Quantum physicist? Professor? As I like to say, if it was good enough for Carl Sagan himself, it's good enough for me." Dagnýr smiled.

Sören packed his bowl, and after it made its first round between the four of them, Dooku coughed hard enough that Sören got up to bring him some water. When he sat back down, Matt said, "It isn't just that Kylo is on heroin. From what I hear he's tangled up with a cartel boss named Snoke."

Since Dooku routinely followed famous criminal cases that had made the news, it didn't take long for the name to register in his memory. "Anton Snoke. Aka..."

"The Supreme Leader of the First Order Cartel," Matt said, nodding. "It isn't just that he's become a really mean and nasty person, it isn't just that he ripped off Margrét and acted shitty about her being transgender and that's not OK, but he made the mistake of getting smack from a cartel. And if he's in bad enough circumstances that he needs Dad to hire him a lawyer, it means he's in over his head with being in debt to Snoke."

"That's unfortunate." Dooku frowned. "I hope that the cartel doesn't give Margrét trouble for the lawsuit -"

Dagnýr shook his head. "Nah, if anything, if Kylo's hardcore in debt to this guy, Snoke will just sit there and let Margrét take him to the cleaners and _then_ come for Kylo to collect. I'm surprised Kylo hasn't just, like, faked his own death and disappeared off to Siberia or something, I'd do that if I was him."

"He should do that anyway," Sören said. "Rotten fucker."

"Oh believe me, just from what I heard he said to our sister, I threatened to beat him within an inch of his life if I ever saw him again," Dagnýr said, "and you know I've always been the mellow one of the three of us."

Sören nodded. "Our sister has been through bloody goddamn fucking enough, without what he did to her."

"Let's change the subject before I get too angry," Dagnýr said, "because that can get... ah... explosive."

Dooku raised an eyebrow and Sören snorted. Sören turned to Dooku and explained, "If he gets angry enough he can, um... make a little bit of lightning."

"Yeah." Dagnýr frowned. "All of my other abilities, I can hide or mask somehow but not that, and I don't want to potentially cause an accident on the holidays and have to think of some explanation for authorities."

"Fair enough," Dooku said.

"How did the two of you meet?" Matt asked.

Sören and Dooku looked at each other, and Dooku gave Sören the go-ahead gesture. Sören took a puff of the pipe and passed it to Dooku, who puffed and passed to Matt, and now it was Sören's turn to cough. When he'd finished, he said, "I had a few paintings up at your mother's gallery opening. Nico happened to be there. He admired them. Then he found me in the bathroom having an anxiety attack. He let me ruin one of his handkerchiefs crying, and gave me his number so I could return it to him - I insisted on dry-cleaning it for him. He also wanted to buy my paintings."

"And as I got to know Sören, I fell in love with him." Dooku reached for Sören's hand and squeezed; Sören turned to him and beamed.

"Same," Sören said. "I thought you were incredibly handsome and sexy from the beginning, and as I got to know you, I found you weren't just easy on the eyes but a lovely person as well."

Dooku couldn't help himself. He leaned in and gave Sören a soft, sweet, lingering kiss.

Dagnýr and Matt began making vomit noises; Sören used the Force to throw a pillow at them.

Then Dagnýr smiled and said, "I admit I was a bit surprised not just that you'd found someone but someone who was, uh. Older than I expected. It's nice to see though that despite societal conventions, you guys are happy together."

"Very happy." Sören nuzzled Dooku's beard.

 _Despite societal conventions._ Dooku shifted uncomfortably in his seat, thinking about how conservative his profession was, some of the unflattering things he'd heard from fellow barristers about homosexuals during the 1970s and 1980s, and even occasionally during the 1990s. Such attitudes were less common and people's attitudes could change with time, but Dooku hadn't come out to his co-workers since finding Sören - he preferred to keep his personal life private - and he wondered if his colleagues wouldn't simply disapprove of knowing he was gay, but with someone young enough to be his son, and what that would mean for him, with all he'd worked for. He didn't want to trouble his mind with such thoughts on the holidays, so he quickly pushed them away, shielding himself so Sören wouldn't pick up on the twinge of discomfort in their Force bond.

"How did you both meet?" Dooku asked Dagnýr and Matt, then.

"Well," Matt said, "I was on a trip to Iceland to visit Uncle Lúkas, of all things -"

"That's a name I haven't heard in a long time." Dooku chuckled. "If you don't mind the interruption, how is he?"

"He's. Uh. Well, eccentric as always." Matt cleared his throat. "He agreed to see me because of that thing I can do - you guys call it the Force, yeah? - and I was having some trouble controlling my abilities and didn't want to create problems for myself and other people. So I went to where he is. The closest town to get supplies was Akureyri, and Dagnýr was up there borrowing Ari's cabin, and I bumped into him at the supermarket and you don't run into too many people out that way who speak perfect English with barely any accent, and I was like hey wait a minute you look familiar - you've been on Neil Degrasse Tyson's show! What are the odds? So I went back and forth between Uncle Lúkas's cabin and where Dagnýr was staying, to hang out with him and nerd out over science stuff, and one night I got into kind of a pissing match with Uncle Lúkas and Dagnýr said I could crash with him if I didn't feel like going to a motel that night. And, uh." Matt turned red, and the wicked grin on Dagnýr's face said everything. "We were on the same flight back to Toronto, and we decided to see where this was going."

"And then I found out he was Ben's twin brother," Dagnýr said, "Ben being our sister's ex-best friend. Who became Kylo not long after the falling out they had, and." He frowned.

"As Mum and Dad are fond of saying, there's no such thing as coincidences." Matt kissed Dagnýr's cheek and Dagnýr beamed, showing dimples. "It already felt like we'd been destined to meet, and that nailed it."

"Did you ever reconcile with your uncle?" Dooku asked.

"Eventually." Matt nodded. "But you know how he is. The only reason why I got to see him at all was because of Force stuff. He's convinced he's a danger to other people, so he hasn't invited me back for a return visit. He does have a phone and I get to check in with him every six months or so."

"How long have you been together?"

"Three years. We've lived together two and a half of those three years. And I've been living in Canada for five years - I really like it in Toronto."

"What about you?" Dooku asked Dagnýr.

"I still get homesick," Dagnýr said, "but I've been out of Iceland for over a decade. Toronto has become home, and I'll probably stay there. I don't mind traveling, though, and it's good to see the UK again." Dagnýr cocked his head to one side. "And you... you've got a Romanian surname if my assumption's correct, but you sound like you've lived in the UK all your life or at least a very long time?"

Dooku nodded. "I was born here. My parents were not, and my father's surname was misspelled by the immigration clerk. I've been to visit Romania several times, and I enjoyed visiting there, but England is home."

"You liked Iceland, though."

"Very much."

Sören lit the pipe again and puffed and passed it around. When it came to Dagnýr, he blew smoke rings like a thoughtful wizard, and then he asked, "Do you think you'd ever leave the UK?"

Dooku raised his eyebrows. "I've... lived here all my life."

That was a non-answer, but Dooku didn't even understand why Dagnýr would ask that. Sören looked somewhat uncomfortable, and Matt decided to intervene by putting on the BBC.

After they'd been watching TV for awhile, and had a light evening meal, Matt and Dagnýr said goodnight and adjourned to the bedroom. Dooku folded out and made the couch bed, and he and Sören took turns changing in the guest bathroom. Dooku sat in the armchair checking his e-mail and Sören got under the covers, watching TV half-asleep. Eventually Dooku turned off his laptop and joined Sören in the bed.

The couch bed was smaller than their bed - big enough for two people, but only just. The mattress was not what Dooku was used to. There were more windows in the living room than in the bedroom, and even with the blinds and curtains closed and the heat on, there was a bit of a draft. Dooku had a gas fireplace in the living room, with a screen in front to protect Dragos from exploring and singeing himself. Dooku got up and turned it on, and Sören smiled at it in the firelight.

"That's cozy." Sören snuggled into Dooku's chest, and nuzzled the silver chest hair poking out through the V-neck of his pajama top.

Dooku put his arms around Sören and stroked Sören's curls. "Would you like to visit Romania with me someday? I'd like to see it at least once more..." His voice trailed off before he could finish _before I die_. Before he'd met Sören, he'd been keenly aware of his mortality. Sören had made him feel young again, but there were moments when he was snapped back into the reality of being an elderly man, in the sunset of his life. His next trip to Romania might very well be his last one, whenever that was. There was more hanging on that thread of thought that disturbed him, and he made himself push it away, not wanting to ruin the holiday with brooding angst.

"I'd like that, Nico." Sören kissed the tip of Dooku's nose, making him smile. "And of course, we must return to Iceland at some point."

"Of course." Dooku patted him. "I've seen the northern lights, I'd like to see the midnight sun."

"It's peak tourist season," Sören said, "and you know how we both love crowds, but it's still worth it."

"Indeed."

"Fuck." Sören laughed softly. "I've got the munchies."

"Truthfully, so do I." Dooku chuckled. "To think I doubted marijuana would have any sort of effect on me, here we are hours after we've smoked and I'm feeling like this."

"You stay there," Sören said. He got up, and pattered off to the kitchen.

He came back with a bag of cheese curls - Dooku didn't normally eat that sort of thing but last time he'd gone grocery shopping with Sören, Sören had thrown it in the cart and he didn't protest. Dooku was about to protest now, but Sören shoved a cheese curl in his mouth.

They shared the bag, eating cheese curls together in the firelight. Dragos hopped up on the bed, coming towards them to sniff the bag and beg. "No," Dooku scolded. "This is not for cats."

Dragos gave a pitiful meow.

Dooku got up, went to get Dragos's treat bag, and had Dragos follow him into the kitchen for a treat. Then he came back and Sören held open the bag of cheese curls; Dooku grabbed some more.

"I can't believe I'm eating this," Dooku said.

Sören raised an eyebrow.

"Since I met you," Dooku said, "you've made me eat the strangest things. Pizza. Hot dogs. Cheese curls." Dooku smirked. "Your cock."

"And my arse."

Dooku almost choked. Sören got up to get him water. Dooku still couldn't stop laughing.

"Dammit, Sören."

"Listen," Sören said, "I could argue that it's weird you'd never eaten any of those things before me."

Dooku almost spat his water, this time.

"How are we even having this conversation," Dooku said.

"I don't know, but you started it."

" _You started it._ What are you, five?"

Sören's response to that was to put a cheese curl in each nostril. Then he gave Dooku an incredibly serious look. Dooku laughed so hard he sprayed a mouthful of cheese curls, which made him laugh harder, and made Sören laugh until he started snorting, which made Dooku laugh even harder, and harder still when Dooku saw Sören still had the cheese curls in his nose. They heard the bedroom door open, and Sören said "hoshit" under his breath. As Doctor Dagnýr Sigurdsson, Ph.D. approached the bed, Dooku cleared his throat loudly and mustered as much dignity as he could, sitting up tall. Sören, on the other hand, still kept the cheese curls in his nose.

"You know," Dagnýr said, "I hate to be That Guest but do you guys think you could keep it down?"

"Do we think?" Sören began stroking his chin. "Hmmm, let us ponder this existential question. What... is... down."

Dooku tried not to laugh, and when he started laughing again it was loud and ugly and got louder for being so completely ridiculous.

Dagnýr folded his arms. He attempted to look angry, but his eyes crinkled at the corners and he was shaking from silent laughter. "You guys," Dagnýr said.

"IF THE TWO OF THEM DON'T STOP WITH THE HEE HAWS, WE COULD JUST HAVE REALLY LOUD SEX AND THEY WOULDN'T HEAR US," Matt yelled from down the hall.

"Oh dear _god._ " Sören facepalmed. Then he glared at his brother. "If you do that, we might just have to retaliate."

"Can he even get it up at that age?" Then Dagnýr clapped his mouth, immediately self-conscious of the words that just slipped out, and watching Dooku bristle. "Ah shit, I'm sorry, man..."

"Trust me," Sören said, "I have no complaints in that department."

"That's good to hear." Dagnýr facepalmed. "Well, not hear. I don't... want to hear it. Yanno, I'm just... gonna go back to bed."

"Hi just gonna go back to bed. I'm Sören."

Dagnýr glared again, and then said, " _You,_ " over his shoulder as he made his way back to the bedroom.

Sören finally took the cheese curls out of his nose and wrapped them up in a napkin. He curled up on Dooku again, and Dooku held him once more. After a few minutes of just laying there, Sören could sense the shift in Dooku's mood - Dooku's mind had of course been lingering on the jab at his age in relation to his sexual prowess - and Sören patted him.

"You want to...?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea tonight in this bed," Dooku said. "I'm concerned about its ability to support our weight as it is, never mind..."

"OK." Sören nodded. "I don't think we should go three nights without sex, either, so we'll have to think of something."

"Yes. We will." Dooku rubbed his shoulder.

"But in the meantime... don't let that remark get you down, já?" Sören gave him a squeeze. "You know how I feel about you."

Dooku kissed the top of Sören's head.

After a few more minutes of cuddling, Sören looked up at him and frowned, dissatisfied at what he could feel across their Force bond. Quietly, Sören unwrapped the cheese curls that had been up his nose, and stuck them in his nose again. Dooku took one look at him and lost it again.

"Good," Sören said. "Let the high flow through you." Sören gave him a mock stern look. "Because if you don't, the next step will be to get the Willy Warmer."

"Dammit, Sören." Dooku almost howled. "Why are you like this."

Sören just stretched and snuggled into Dooku again. After he'd been laying there like that for a few minutes with cheese curls still in his nose, Dooku had another laughing fit, and Sören did too, enough that the cheese curls dropped out of his nose from laughing so hard - one fell down Dooku's pajama top.

It took awhile for Dooku and Sören to stop laughing - Dooku exhausted himself, and that was a good thing; it was as if his troubles were far away. Tangled up with Sören, he drifted off to sleep.

 

_

 

Dooku was up before Sören, and tried to be quiet in the kitchen, but the proximity of the kitchen to the living room meant Sören woke up soon after Dooku started making tea. Sören greeted him at the stove with a kiss.

"How did you sleep?" Sören asked.

"Ugh, not well." Dooku frowned. "That bed really isn't suited for two people."

"It's really not." Sören frowned too. "I'm sore all over."

"So am I." Dooku sighed. "I don't want to ask our guests to stay in a hotel so we can have our bed back, however. We'll just have to think of something."

"To be honest, I think even a cheap air mattress would be more comfortable, and it would just be a few nights," Sören said. "So when we're out and about today, we could pick one up, put it down by the fireplace..."

Dooku nodded. "We could do that."

Dooku continued to frown as he prepared the tea, and Sören finally asked, "It's not just that the bed was uncomfortable, though."

"Well, no." Dooku sighed.

"Is it about what my stupid brother -"

Dooku shook his head, though truthfully that comment still bothered him a little. "I had a peculiar dream last night."

"Oh?"

Dooku sighed. "I dreamed about Sayyid-Diya."

"Your friend... well, ex-friend... who was killed on 7/7."

"Yes." Dooku furrowed his brow. "I haven't dreamed about him in years, so I find this rather odd."

"Hm." Sören scratched his head. "You know, the ancient Norse had a belief that during Jól, the, uh... veil between worlds? was thinner, and the dead could visit the living. I know what you said about Earth religions and the probability that all 'gods' were just aliens preying on humanity and I agree, but that doesn't mean every belief the ancestors had was wrong, either. There might be some truth to the dead visiting the living this time of year."

"He could have done it years ago," Dooku said. "Why now, of all times?"

"Maybe because there's several Force-sensitive gathered under one roof at one time," Sören said. "Makes the signal stronger, or something. Anyway, was your dream good? Bad?"

"We were having tea," Dooku said. "It was truly as if he were over for a normal visit, and we'd never fallen out."

"Then he definitely paid you a visit." Sören nodded. He patted Dooku on the shoulder. "Do you know where he's buried? I assume he wouldn't be cremated, even if he wasn't observant."

"He wasn't, but you're correct." Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a small amount of regret that he'd even mentioned this, not wanting to deal with it. "I do know where he's buried, his daughter told me years ago."

"While we're out, we can stop at his grave too," Sören said. At the look Dooku gave him, Sören quickly added, "You know, only if you want to." _But you should._

Dooku had reservations at a restaurant in London, for Christmas dinner. That afternoon he picked up Frankie, Margrét and Ari. On the way to the restaurant he took a detour to a department store - quietly lamenting that it was even open on Christmas Eve, he could remember a time when shops closed on the holidays - and he and Sören bought an air mattress large enough for two people, pump included.

Dooku also bought a small bouquet of flowers, because the graveyard where Sayyid-Diya was buried was his next stop. Everyone but Sören elected to wait in the SUV; he and Sören got out, and Dooku hesitated. Sören took his arm and marched him into the graveyard.

Sayyid-Diya's remains were buried next to his son's - his son's remains had been flown back to the United Kingdom after 9/11. Dooku paused at the headstones, feeling a moment of panic, even though he knew logically there would be no confrontation from a corpse in the ground thirteen years. Sören reassuringly rubbed his back, and Dooku swallowed and stepped forward to lay the flowers at Sayyid-Diya's grave.

Dooku cleared his throat and touched the headstone. "I don't know if you can hear this," Dooku said, "and if you can hear this, I don't know that what I'm doing right now would even be welcome, but... I still miss our friendship. I wish we hadn't fallen out. I wish that after our falling out, I'd come to you after some time to cool off, to fight to keep you in my life, instead of letting you go. I wish I had gone with my gut instinct to call you the day before..." His voice trailed off and he blinked back tears. "You were a good friend. One of the few I ever had. And it was very lonely and cold without you. I hope that wherever you are, if there is a wherever... that you're not as lonely and cold as I have been. I hope to see you again someday." He smiled. "We need to get around to that chess rematch."

He stepped away, the tears falling. Sören was there, taking Dooku into his arms, letting him fall apart. Dooku didn't want to cry for very long, since his guests were waiting in the SUV, but he couldn't hold back, either. Sören pet his hair, his face, his beard, rubbed his back, made soothing noises. Finally Sören just rocked him, and when Dooku finally picked his head up, snow was falling. Dooku admired the flakes in Sören's hair, resting on his beard, his eyelashes.

Sören kissed the last few tears, and then reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat and pulled out a handkerchief. Dooku used it to wipe his face and then he saw Sören had been crying a little too, and he wiped Sören's face with it. Then he realized Sören had been wearing a slight touch of mascara and eyeliner.

"I can have your handkerchief dry-cleaned," Dooku joked, a callback to their first meeting.

"These days that sounds like a strange euphemism, innuendo."

It took Dooku a moment and then he couldn't help laughing. The absurdity of laughing at a sex joke in a graveyard made him laugh harder, and Sören with him.

"You are such a brat," Dooku told him on the way back to the SUV.

"You deserve it." Sören grinned at him.

Qui, Obi, Hans and Leja met them at the restaurant. The group was large enough that Dooku had reserved the party room at the back of the restaurant. They sat around the long table, and ordered drinks and appetizers - since people were driving, alcoholic beverages would be limited, and other drinks plentiful - then they worked on deciding their meals. Matt had a fairly emotional reunion with his parents, and Dagnýr was entertained by Qui's latest veterinary misadventures.

Dooku had opted for a more traditional Christmas dinner for himself, with goose and plum pudding. Sören lamented the lack of grouse and leaf bread, but deemed goose an "acceptable enough" substitute and went with what Dooku was having. When their meals were brought, Dooku took a moment to make a toast. "To family and friends," he said. "Let us not be strangers in this world."

" _Skál,_ " Sören said, which was repeated by the others, and Sören and Dooku clinked glasses and drank.

After the meal, Qui and Obi and Hans and Leja followed Dooku back to his house in Bermondsey in their respective vehicles. The Christmas teee in Dooku's living room was lit up, and Leja smiled at the sight of Dooku, Sören, Dagnýr and Matt's shoes lined up on the mantle over the fireplace, the Icelandic equivalent of Christmas stockings. Dooku frowned, however, when he saw a single potato placed in his shoe.

"What is this?" he asked.

"I believe that's a potato, Nico," Sören said.

Dooku glared. "I know what a potato looks like. What I meant was, _what is this doing in my shoe._ "

Sören attempted to keep a poker face, but his eyes danced. "It looks like the Yule Lads think you've been naughty."

Qui's eyes lit up. "Oh my, that potato is even shaped like a -"

Dooku made strangled noises.

Sören, Dagnýr and Matt all had pieces of wrapped candy in their shoes; Dagnýr glared at Sören when he pulled out two cheese curls, presumably the same ones Sören had stuck in his nose last night. Sören just flashed him a grin.

Dooku made hot chocolate and gifts were exchanged, mostly gift cards or other small items, to not flood Dooku's living room with boxes and wrapping paper. But finally Dagnýr had three flat wrapped boxes for Matt, Ari, Sören and Dooku.

When Dooku opened his box, Dagnýr immediately began taking pictures at the look on Dooku's face, which made Sören double over, wheezing from laughter. Dooku held up a crocheted "willy warmer" - handmade rather than the commercial one Sören had bought at the Icelandic Phallological Museum. His was a penguin, Ari's was an eagle, Sören's was a turtle with the part for the scrotum as its shell, and Matt's was a Cookie Monster with a cookie near the tip.

"What." Dooku couldn't even make words.

"Well you see," Dagnýr said, "in Iceland, if you don't get at least one new clothing item at Christmas, the Christmas Cat eats you." He grinned. "See, I helped. Now the Christmas Cat won't eat you." He picked up his hot chocolate to take a sip.

Sören couldn't resist. He attempted a wink at Dooku and quipped, "No, now you just have to worry about me eating you."

Dagnýr spat a mouthful of hot chocolate, and Matt rolled on the floor laughing.

 

_

 

Dooku and Sören went to drive Frankie back to her flat in Greenwich, and Margrét and Ari back to their hotel. On the way there Margrét and Frankie talked, and made plans to get together on Boxing Day, which would be Margrét's last full day and night in London, going back to Iceland on the 27th. Dooku and Sören exchanged small smiles - it was nice to see that Margrét and Frankie hit it off so well.

On the way back to Dooku's house, they rode in companionable silence through the snow, and finally Dooku asked Sören, "Would you like to see some Christmas lights?"

Sören smiled, nodding eagerly. "I sure would."

Since they'd be out for awhile, Dooku stopped at a drive-thru to get them both hot coffee - again, Dooku lamented that anything was even open at this hour on a holiday. He put on a selection of Christmas music, and they drove through several neighborhoods and parks where Dooku knew there was an impressive display of Christmas lights. Sören's boyish exuberance warmed his heart, as well as made him ache that he'd spent so many Christmases alone.

At last they were driving back to the house and Sören gave a little sigh.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Dooku asked.

"Jæja... just a little homesick, is all." Sören smiled and frowned. "Sometimes I miss Iceland a lot."

"I can understand why. It's a beautiful country."

Sören reached and rubbed Dooku's knee. "You'll have to see Iceland during the Christmas season with me, sometime. Maybe even next year. It's even more magical then."

"I'd like that."

When they got back to the house, they worked on setting up the air mattress in front of the fireplace. Dooku brought out extra covers - he still felt chilled from the draft last night, and it would be even colder tonight. As he did that, Sören dipped briefly into the bedroom, and came out with a wicked grin that meant he was plotting something.

Dagnýr and Matt came out to say goodnight and get some food and drinks to take back to the bedroom so they wouldn't disturb Sören and Dooku in the living room. Once the bedroom door closed, Sören leaned in to Dooku for a kiss, taking the remote out of his hand to shut off the TV.

When Sören and Dooku pulled apart, Sören asked him, "Are you still sore from the cramped bed last night?"

"A little -"

"I can help with that." Sören got up from the couch and gestured to the mattress on the floor.

Dooku turned the lights off in the living room, so it was just lit by the Christmas tree and the glow from the fireplace, creating a nice ambiance. Sören took his pajamas off, leaving them in a pile next to the bed. Dooku's breath caught as he admired Sören's naked body in the firelight - even going a day without sex made him feel pent-up, and he had to fight the urge to push Sören down and take him right then.

Sören came over to Dooku and pulled the pajama top off him, then pushed down his pajama bottoms. Dooku stepped out of them, and joined Sören on the air mattress. Sören showed him the bottle of oil - that was what he'd gone into the bedroom for. Dooku couldn't help a moan at the sight of it, and another moan as Sören rolled him onto his stomach and poured oil over his back.

"Here, _elskan_ ," Sören husked. "Let me make you feel good."

Sören straddled Dooku's hips; Dooku groaned at the feel of Sören's already-hard cock grinding his ass crack, as Sören's hands began working the oil into his back and shoulders, kneading, rubbing, caressing, up and down, back and forth. Dooku could feel the Force flowing through Sören's hands, making his tension melt away, making him melt and float like he was in a warm bath made of light. Dooku moaned again as he felt Sören's lips graze his nape, then Sören kissed and nibbled and licked down Dooku's back, sending shivers through him, making his cock twinge. "So sexy," Sören purred. "I love touching you. Love worshiping you."

Sören moved down - Dooku almost let out a cry of protest when Sören's cock left the crack of his ass. Sören began rubbing and kneading Dooku's ass, and then his thighs, his calves. When Sören started kissing the back of his thighs, Dooku almost climaxed right then and there, and then Sören's tongue was inside him, rubbing that sweet spot, and Dooku buried his face into the pillows to not disturb his guests with the noises he couldn't help making. Sören himself made an "mmmmmmmmm" sound into Dooku's ass, which sent another shiver of pleasure and excitement down his spine. Sören stopped licking for a moment to say, "You taste good even there," before resuming work on making expert love to his prostate, until Dooku was trembling, gasping and panting, feeling his cock dripping with need.

Sören rolled Dooku over and straddled his hips - their hard cocks were pressed together now, and Sören's cock was leaking as much as his. Sören poured oil over his chest, and massaged it into his pecs and abs, paying special attention to the nipples. As Sören's hands rubbed, their cocks rubbed together, and with a mischievous smile Sören poured oil over their cocks, pressing harder and rubbing more insistently as he leaned in to seize a nipple with his teeth.

Sören's hands rubbed over Dooku's stomach and hips in slow, lazy circles - he knew what Dooku liked - as he licked, sucked and nibbled one nipple, then the other, going back and forth between them. Dooku was breathing harder now, out of his mind with sensation, feverish at what Sören was doing to him. When Sören's lips trailed down so he could start licking and kissing the muscle definition in his stomach, Dooku clutched Sören's head, arching to him, wanting to beg, not able to make words.

Sören continued teasing him, rubbing and kneading one thigh, following the wake of his fingers with his lips and tongue, then working on the other one. At last Sören took Dooku into his mouth, sucking slowly, eyes locked on him, studying every reaction. Dooku writhed, desperate to come, but not wanting to come just yet, aching for more of Sören's talented mouth, more of _Sören_ , needing to feel his love, his passion, the electric connection between them.

Sören sucked for a few minutes then went down to nuzzle and lick Dooku's balls; when Sören took the sac into his mouth Dooku fought off a moan that would definitely disturb their guests. Sören teased and teased his balls before coming up to just lick the shaft and head, slowly, lapping the precum with a wicked look in his eyes.

Sören came up to kiss him, and Dooku moaned into the kiss at the taste of his precum on Sören's lips and tongue. He felt Sören's hand continue to stroke him, and he watched as Sören collected precum on his fingers and rubbed it onto a nipple. He clutched Sören's head again as Sören licked and sucked the precum off his exquisitely sensitive, swollen nipple, and then repeated with the other. Back and forth he went, driving him out of his mind.

Finally Dooku had enough - he stopped being a gentleman, something animal in him took over and he found himself rolling Sören onto his back with a kiss and a growl. He nipped Sören's neck and Sören let out a moan. Dooku covered Sören's mouth with his hand. "We need to keep it down," he rasped, "or your brother will complain." He smirked. "Or worse."

With his finger resting against Sören's lips, he kissed Sören's neck and shoulder, and then he whispered, "Turn over."

Sören got on his stomach. Dooku anointed his hands and began to rub Sören's back. Sören gave muffled moans into the pillow, and each moan made his cock twinge. Dooku couldn't resist kissing and nibbling Sören's nape, his shoulders, and then tracing the outline of the tattoos on Sören's back with his tongue, kissing and nuzzling the scars the phoenixes concealed. His fingers played over them lovingly, and he whispered against Sören's neck, "You are beautiful to me. All that you are is beautiful. The journey of your life is beautiful. The visions in your soul are beautiful."

He kissed Sören's nape again, pleased at the way Sören shuddered. He resumed kissing the phoenixes, rubbing Sören's shoulders, then kissing down Sören's spine, his hands kneading their way down. He spent a long time just rubbing Sören's shapely ass, itself a work of art. The puckered hole finally tempted him too long and he lowered his face to make love to Sören with his tongue as his hands rubbed and stroked Sören's thighs and calves. Sören whimpered into the pillow, trembling, panting; Dooku could feel Sören's pleasure across their Force bond and it made his cock ache even more. He ate Sören slowly at first, savoring him, then faster, until he felt Sören climax, letting out a strangled sob.

Dooku gently rolled Sören onto his back and looked at Sören's cock covered in cum, and the cum puddle on the sheets. "My, what a messy boy you are," he said.

He collected the cum onto his fingers and rubbed it onto Sören's nipples, and gave Sören the same teasing treatment Sören had given him, but for longer, making Sören hard again, arching to him, panting "Nico... Nico... fuck me..."

"Mmmmmmm." Dooku tugged on a nipple ring with his teeth, before giving the nipple slow strokes with his tongue. Licking around the nipple in slow, lazy circles, before suckling it hard. "What's the rush?"

Sören grabbed Dooku's cock - it was indeed very hard, and very slick with precum. Dooku laughed softly, batting Sören's hand away.

He worked oil over Sören's chest and stomach, and then caressed one thigh, one leg, then the other. He nibbled and kissed Sören's thighs and hips and stomach, before taking Sören into his mouth to suck slowly. He could feel Sören close to orgasm again - Sören was shaking now, panting, giving little whimpers. He teasingly massaged Sören's balls, and dipped a finger inside him, slowly working the prostate. Just before Sören could come, Dooku took out Sören's cock and just licked up and down the shaft, chased the precum dripping with his tongue, and finally kissed Sören with precum on his tongue, deeply, his fingers rubbing harder inside Sören's channel.

"Nico." Sören narrowed his eyes. "Fuck me _now._ "

Dooku rolled his eyes with a sigh of mock exasperation. "Oh, if you _insist._ "

"You keep this up and next year it won't be a potato in your shoe."

"Are we making threats now?" Dooku kissed the tip of Sören's nose with a small, predatory smile.

"We're making promises."

Dooku nipped Sören's lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and tasted Sören's blood with a little groan as he pushed inside him. Sören's nails dug into Dooku's back, and Dooku kissed him hard before Sören could cry out. When he was all the way inside, he rested there, savoring the silken heat of his bondmate, gripping him like a vise.

Dooku started to thrust, slowly. He nuzzled and kissed Sören's neck. "So what will you put in my shoe instead of a potato?"

"Oh, there'll be a potato, it just won't go in your shoe."

At the scandalized look on Dooku's face, Sören laughed. He stopped laughing when Dooku bit his shoulder with a growl, and started punishing his ass, driving into him hard. Sören instinctively propped his legs up on Dooku's shoulders. "Yes, yes, yes, god _yes_ ," Sören whimpered.

Dooku covered Sören's mouth before it could become an issue down the hall. Then Sören sucked his fingers, and the innocent eroticism of the act made Dooku fuck him even harder, consumed by his lust. Dooku's free hand reached to stroke Sören's cock. Sören ran his hands over Dooku's chest, played with his nipples, making soft little whimpers around the fingers in his mouth. Sören's hips rocked back at him, matching thrust for thrust, fucking Dooku's cock just as much as Dooku was fucking his ass.

"You're a naughty brat," Dooku growled.

Sören nodded vehemently and gave another little whimper, sucking his fingers harder.

The primal, ball-slapping sex drove them to the edge right away, and their need to fuck, to mate, in heat for each other, kept them there, fighting to hold on till the last possible second, to feel that deliciousness again and again and again. At last Dooku's fingers left Sören's mouth, and he pinched Sören's nipple. "Come for me," he rasped.

Sören opened his mouth but no sound came out; he arched his back and cum sprayed all over Dooku's chest and stomach. The sight and feel of Sören's climax made him give in to his own, spending deep into Sören's ass, his orgasm perhaps even harder for the lack of crying out with his release.

Dooku sank down onto him and Sören wrapped his arms around him and they kissed and kissed and kissed. Dooku found he was still somewhat hard, and just from kissing, Sören was hard again - Dooku was almost envious of the younger man's reload time. "Do you want to go again?" Dooku asked.

Sören nodded vehemently, and kissed him hard.

Sören and Dooku rolled so that Dooku was on his back, and Sören astride him, Dooku still inside him. Sören began riding him, slowly, sensually. Dooku was fully erect again as well, lost in the beauty of Sören's body, the perfect fit of Sören wrapped around him, and the love he felt for his bondmate. His hands reached up to caress Sören the way Sören had caressed him the last round, paying special attention to Sören's sensitive nipples. Sören also worked his hands over Dooku's body, threading his fingers through the hair on Dooku's chest and arms and thighs. 

After they had been going like that for a good while, lost in the haze of sensuality of their slow rhythm, Sören leaned down to kiss him, and then rose back up, smiling as he stroked Dooku's whiskers. "So sexy," Sören whispered. "I love how hairy you are. So male."

Dooku liked that Sören wasn't especially hairy, his skin like smooth marble. "You look like a sculpture from one of the old masters," he whispered back. "You are exquisite." Dooku took Sören's cock into his hand. "Though, you're a bit more well-endowed than those sculptures."

"That's not a complaint."

Dooku chuckled, stroking Sören's cock slowly. "Not at all."

"You like it?"

"Yes."

Sören's eyes met his. "I want to hear you say it."

Dooku swallowed hard. "I like your cock."

"Mmmmmm." Sören rewarded him with more nipple play, making him shiver. He worked his hips just a little harder and faster. "I like your cock. Not like, _love_. I love feeling your cock inside me."

"I love being inside you."

The heat in Sören's eyes again, the little growl. Dooku indulged him. "I love your arse."

"Do you? Just looking at it, or...?"

Dooku couldn't believe he was saying these things, but here he was, and he knew why Sören was prodding him like this, because after a lifetime of celibacy and being something of a prude, he loved this, loved the wanton, lewd, _animal_ side of him that Sören brought out, it was thrilling to lose control and stop being so proper all the time. "I love fucking you."

"Yes, good." Sören leaned down to kiss him, and sped up the pace a little more.

Dooku gripped Sören's hips, kissing him back, matching Sören's rhythm with his thrusts. "You feel so good, and I love looking at your beautiful cock when I fuck you. I love it when you come all over me."

"Mmmmmmmm." Sören kissed him again. "I love making a mess all over you with my cum."

Dooku shuddered, wanting it, wanting _this_ , this complete debauchery. "I want to make you come again. I want to fuck the cum out of you so fucking hard..."

Sören started riding him like he was riding a bull. Dooku loved it. He grabbed onto Sören and gave it to him hard. The sound of their flesh slapping together and the wet suctioning sound of their fuck was loud enough that unless their guests were asleep they could probably hear it and know what was going on, but they still tried to contain their moans. Gasping and panting was another story, and when they climaxed together, they gasped hard, shuddery sighs between deep, hungry kisses.

Sören curled up on him and Dooku held him, both of them finally spent.

"Thank you," Sören whispered when he could make words again.

"Thank _you._ " Dooku stroked Sören's curls and kissed the top of his forehead.

They snuggled together for awhile, and Dooku said, "When we visited Iceland together and you showed me the Christmas House, and told me about how bad the holidays were for you growing up... I wanted to give you a better Christmas."

"You did." Sören smiled. "I don't know why either of us celebrate, considering we're not religious, but it's so deeply ingrained in our respective cultures, I guess." Sören nuzzled his beard. "Otherwise I'd call it something different, like, uh, Life Day."

"Life Day?" Dooku snorted. "What kind of holiday name is that?"

"Exactly."

"And then, what, the Life Day Cat can eat you for not getting a new item of clothing?"

Sören laughed. "Life Day Lads doesn't have the same ring to it, either."

"I still can't believe your brother's... clothing gift."

"He crocheted them himself. He knits and crochets as a hobby."

"Really." Dooku couldn't reconcile the mental image of an astrophysicist knitting, but he supposed there were weirder things in the universe.

"Mmmm. Though I might have made a suggestion or two. Otherwise you would have just gotten an ugly sweater."

"Brat."

"You love it."

Dooku kissed the tip of Sören's nose.

"But yes, I have had a happy Christmas so far," Sören said. "What would make next year's happier is if you go to Iceland with me for Christmas. OK?"

Dooku nodded. "All right."

"Good."

Sören fell asleep soon after, and Dooku lay there awake in the dark, realizing next Christmas he would be seventy years old, and Sören only thirty-four. Wondering how many Christmases he had left. _Don't think about that now. Enjoy the moment._ He studied the beauty of his sleeping bondmate in the firelight, and how soothing it was to be tangled together with him. At last, when he was relaxed again and content, he slept.


	20. Chapter 20

On the last day of 2017, Dooku woke up to the sound of rain... and soft kisses raining over his face.

It was a Sunday. Sören's family had gone back to Iceland and Canada the evening of the 27th, and they'd had three days to recover, but Dooku still felt tired enough to sleep in until eight AM, two hours past his usual wake up time. He was also usually up before Sören, but here was Sören nuzzling his beard, kissing along the length of his jaw. Dooku finally tilted Sören's head and claimed his mouth, kissing him deeply.

"Mmmmmmmm," Sören purred into the kiss. They pulled apart just enough for Dooku to see Sören's smile, and the way his eyes smiled, shining with love. It made Dooku smile back; Sören's smile lit up his whole world.

"How long have you been up?"

"About twenty minutes."

"You could have woken me up sooner."

"You looked so peaceful," Sören said. He gave Dooku a soft, lingering kiss. "I didn't want to disturb you." He stroked Dooku's face some more, skritched his whiskers. "I like watching you sleep. I like looking at you."

It was then that Dooku felt Sören's hard-on pressed against his hip. Dooku smirked. "I can tell."

Sören kissed him again. "There are worse ways to wake up, Nico."

"Indeed there are." Dooku pet Sören's curls and kissed him back. "I wasn't complaining. This is nice."

"It is." Sören nodded. "You know what would be nicer?"

"Hm?"

Sören took off his T-shirt; Dooku ogled his bare chest. Then Sören helped Dooku take off his own pajama top, and began to kiss him everywhere. Between kisses, Sören sang.

 _Sunday morning rain is falling_  
_Steal some covers share some skin_  
_Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable_  
_You twist to fit the mold that I am in_  
_But things just get so crazy living life gets hard to do_  
_And I would gladly hit the road get up and go if I knew_  
_That someday it would lead me back to you_  
_That someday it would lead me back to you_

 _That may be all I need_  
_In darkness he is all I see_  
_Come and rest your bones with me_  
_Driving slow on Sunday morning_  
_And I never want to leave_

Dooku couldn't help smiling at Sören singing to him, the husky, bluesy tenor and the Icelandic lilt. Sören began to peel down Dooku's pajama bottoms, caressing and kissing the exposed flesh of his hips and thighs, and continued singing between kisses:

 _Fingers trace your every outline_  
_Paint a picture with my hands_  
_Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm_  
_Change the weather still together when it ends_

 _That may be all I need_  
_In darkness he is all I see_  
_Come and rest your bones with me_  
_Driving slow on Sunday morning_  
_And I never want to leave_

Sören finally stopped singing... to take Dooku's cock into his mouth. Dooku groaned, loving it. He stroked Sören's hair and face, shivered at the heat he saw in his bondmate's eyes. Sören sucked him slowly, working his tongue slowly. It wasn't long before Dooku was writhing, moaning, trembling with desire.

After awhile Sören took Dooku's cock out of his mouth and just licked it, from the slit in the sensitive head down the shaft to the hilt, and back up again. Slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, following the veins and the trails of precum now leaking in copious amounts. When Sören started sucking Dooku's balls, he cried out, and again at the "mmmmmm" from Sören with his mouth full.

Dooku's balls tightened and he felt the delicious tension building and building, his release so close yet so far. He loved every moment of being teased, but especially when their eyes met. Sören licking his balls was also heavenly, and when Sören resumed licking his cock, Dooku heard himself panting, gasping, moaning. He loved the way Sören completely wrecked his self-control and made him lose every shred of dignity, turning him into an animal.

Sören stopped licking for a moment, his finger tracing circles around the slit in the head of Dooku's cock. "How do you want it?" he asked.

"Yes?"

They both laughed at that. Sören playfully smacked his thigh and then nibbled it, making Dooku moan. "That's not an answer," Sören said.

"Sure it is." Dooku laughed. "Let's spend the day in bed, enjoying each other. I can think of no better way to end this year and welcome in the next one."

Sören smiled. "All right." He came up to kiss Dooku. "Then I guess my question is, what do you want first?"

"Yes."

Sören rolled his eyes, but chuckled.

It was late afternoon when they'd finally finished. They'd started their day in bed with sixty-nine, then they lay on their sides and Dooku fucked Sören slowly, with Sören rolling him onto his back to ride him for the finish. Then after a nap they'd woken up for Sören to kiss and caress Dooku all over before rimming him, and finally Sören took him, another slow, sensual fuck that they never wanted to end, with a shattering climax.

They had a variety of reheated leftovers for dinner, eating in the living room in their pajamas. Dooku felt too tired to stay up till midnight, but Sören was still high on the euphoria of fucking the day away, so Dooku slept as Sören painted, and just before midnight, Sören woke Dooku so they could open a bottle of champagne and toast 2018 in bed.

Sören "accidentally" spilled champagne on Dooku's pajama top, and then again on his bare chest, and Sören cleaning it with his tongue aroused him all over again. Their first act of the new year was to make love once more, pouring champagne over each other's naked bodies and licking it off, then sucking each other's champagne-soaked cocks until they came together. Dooku lay shuddering for several minutes after he'd stopped shooting cum, feeling like he was melting.

Sören finally helped him move his body, to get under the covers. Sören snuggled against him, spooning from behind with an arm around him. He craned his head to gently kiss Dooku's cheek.

"Happy new year," Sören whispered.

"Mmm. Happy new year," Dooku mumbled, smiling.

"I hope it'll be the best one of our lives so far. And many more, together."

 

_

 

Dooku had New Year's Day off, and Sören did not. Though Sören had the Vespa to get around, Dooku asked to bring him to work and pick him up, since he had some errands to run, and Sören agreed to it.

The first order of business was hitting the gym. Before Sören moved in with Dooku, he had a schedule of visiting the gym three times a week, which he credited with keeping him in shape at his age - when he was a younger man he'd been even more physically active. Since Sören had moved in with Dooku in November, Dooku had gotten to the gym twice a week, which still wasn't bad, but Dooku was starting to feel uneasy about it. He wasn't the type to make new year's resolutions, but he was determined to get back to his original schedule of visiting the gym three times a week.

The workout left him tired and sore, but in a good way. He also noticed as he changed back into his usual tunic and trousers and winter coat, that he wasn't as self-conscious as he used to be about being in a T-shirt and gym shorts while working out around other people.

Dooku's next stop was the supermarket, and the Jaguar was loaded with groceries when he arrived to pick up Sören. Sören had a hectic shift of dealing with customers, but nonetheless brightened when he saw Dooku. After Sören helped him put the groceries away, Dooku put on tea and they just cuddled together on the couch for awhile. As Sören snuggled into Dooku's shoulder, Dooku felt the residual distress across their Force bond, and he propped one of Sören's legs up on his lap and began to rub Sören's foot. Sören made happy little purring sounds and Dooku smiled - he loved spoiling his bondmate.

When Dooku worked on Sören's other foot, Dragos came over, wanting pettings of his own. Sören pulled Dragos onto his lap and proceeded to pamper the cat, until Dragos was purring loudly, kneading on Sören and drooling happily.

At last the foot rubs were over. Sören stretched, and Dooku took his cat and gave him some love. Dragos flopped onto his back so Dooku could rub his belly, and Sören skritched the cat's chin and behind the ears.

"Do you want steak or fish this evening?" Dooku asked.

"They both sound good, so whichever you'd rather make," Sören said. "I think while you're cooking I'm going to paint for a bit, try to get this last piece finished before the show on Thursday night."

Dooku nodded. One of Leja's birthday presents to Sören had been his own show at her gallery during the first week of January. Sören was still nervous about it, and Dooku was nervous about accompanying him. But it was an opportunity Sören couldn't refuse, and Dooku wanted to be there for him on this momentous occasion.

Sören painted while Dooku cooked - he decided on steak - and after the meal Sören did dishes, and went back to do a little more painting as Dooku relaxed with a book. At last Sören was ready to turn in - more for consideration of Dooku having to be up early the next day for work. They meditated together and then took a shower together, which turned sensual, and their last act of the night was to make love, Sören on his back, Dooku fucking him slowly, sweetly. The kissing and caressing and nuzzling and whispered words of love created an intimacy that made for a deeper feeling of connection and surrender, which brought about a very intense orgasm for them both. As Dooku fell asleep entwined with Sören, he felt peaceful and content, grateful for the love that had given him a second lease on life.

Dooku woke up with a headache, and feeling a bit achy all over. He figured it was maybe overdoing it at the gym yesterday, so he'd forego his original plan of hitting the gym again after work. Once he was at work, the achy feeling got worse, and he felt cold enough that he had to check to make sure the thermostat was actually functioning properly - it was. Hot tea wouldn't take off the chill, and when he had been at work a few hours, he noticed himself shaking. As he went from his office to use the restroom, he felt weak and a little dizzy and had to stop and lean on a wall. One of his co-workers noticed and told him to go home early.

The drive home was stressful - not only could Dooku not stop shaking, but he felt hazy and not as alert as he normally was, even with tea. He wondered when he was almost home if he should have left his Jaguar at the office and called a cab, but it was rather too late for that. When he got inside, he put on more tea, and wrapped himself in a blanket. He watched the BBC while drinking tea, but couldn't concentrate on the television, or really anything at all. And he was freezing cold, even with the heat being on inside. After a cup of tea, he decided to change into pajamas and get under the covers of his bed.

He was in bed when Sören found him a few hours later. Sören sat on the edge of the bed, and gently pet him awake. " _Elskan_ , are you all right?"

"No," Dooku said. He tried to sit up, and it hurt too much, so he lay back down. "Fuck," he said - normally not one for profanity outside sex, but he was so irritable from the incessant chill and the ache that he didn't care.

"OK, you're definitely sick." Sören pressed the back of his hand to Dooku's forehead. "You're a bit warm."

"I don't feel warm at all. I'm freezing."

"I'll take your temperature later. Have you eaten? I hear chicken soup is good when you're sick."

"I'm not hungry."

"You should still eat something."

"I suppose."

Dooku drifted off, and was woken up again by Sören with a tray of hot chicken soup. Sören sat next to him as he ate - Dooku was shaking enough from whatever it was he had that he spilled soup on himself, and felt embarrassed. Sören wiped at his shirt with a wet towel, nonplussed.

Just sitting up to eat some soup felt like a herculean effort, and Dooku needed to lay back down. Sören tucked him in and petted him until he fell back asleep. This took awhile, as tired as he was, because of the discomfort from aching and still not being able to stop shaking, which made him ache more.

When Dooku next woke up, he heard music across the hall, a sign that Sören was painting. Dooku wondered if Sören had turned up the thermostat because he'd complained about being cold, because now he was so hot he didn't even have covers on. His pajamas were damp with sweat. He still ached, and his head felt foggy. He felt the urgent need to go to the bathroom, but it took him a minute to even recall how to get from the bed to the bathroom, even though it was just a short distance away.

A few steps there, and suddenly his stomach lurched. He tried to rush to the bathroom, but he didn't make it in time, and there was now a puddle of vomit just outside the bathroom door. Dooku saw it and immediately felt embarrassed, and between that and just not feeling good he broke down crying on the toilet.

Sören heard him crying. He saw the mess immediately. "Oh, _elskan._ "

"I'm sorry. I'll clean it -"

" _You_ are going back to bed." Sören wagged his finger. " _I_ will clean that up."

"But -"

Sören gave him a very stern look, which for all his trolling, he was quite good at.

Sören helped him back to bed, and Dooku lay there, watching as Sören scooped up the solid parts, then sprinkled baking soda over the mess. Just as Dooku was starting to fade back into sleep, he was woken by the sound of the vacuum cleaner. He growled at the noise and then immediately felt guilty - of course Sören had to clean that up right away, so it wouldn't stain.

When Sören was done vacuuming, Dooku closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but he was too hot and in tremendous pain. Some time later, he felt Sören poke him.

"Nico, put this under your tongue." It was a thermometer.

The last thing Dooku wanted to do was that, and even that simple act hurt. Sören waited, checking the clock, and when it was time he took out the thermometer. "You've got a fever," Sören said. "My educated guess is that you've got flu."

"Here I was hoping I'd just overdone it at the gym."

"No, you probably caught a bug at the gym, or anywhere else you've been the last couple of days," Sören said. "So here's what you're going to do. I'll call out on your behalf tomorrow -"

"No."

"What do you mean, no? You're not going to work like this. Not only do you need to rest and not make yourself worse, but you're not going to give this to your other co-workers."

"It's not that." Dooku frowned. "Having _you_ call there, on my behalf, is what I'm complaining about."

"Why, though?"

Dooku sighed. He thought this would have been more obvious to Sören, after discussions they'd had. "I'm not out. If you call in on my behalf, it's going to raise questions that I'm not prepared to answer."

"I see." Sören attempted to keep the edge out of his voice, but Dooku could feel it creep in there anyway, and now he felt even worse, knowing he'd upset his bondmate just a little. "Do you want me to wake you up tomorrow morning then so you can make the call yourself?"

"Yes, please." Then Dooku said, "Thank you for understanding -"

Sören cut in with, "We'll... discuss that subject at another time. In the meantime, the vomiting and the fever means fluid intake is important, so I'm going to make a run to the store to get you some Gatorade."

Dooku didn't know how long Sören was gone, but Sören was waking him up again with a bottle of orange Gatorade. "Drink," Sören said.

It tasted awful to him, but Sören wasn't going to let him not drink it, so he drank. When he'd drank enough to please Sören, Sören put the half-full bottle at his bedside and put a cool, damp washcloth on his head. "Rest." Sören pulled up the covers to Dooku's waist, and rubbed his back until he went to sleep.

Dooku woke up in the middle of the night again to vomit once more - this time he managed to do so in the sink - and he was on the toilet for quite awhile. He was freezing again when he climbed back in bed beside Sören, who responded by wrapping himself around Dooku, holding him tight.

"I'm sorry to wake you up," Dooku said.

"Stop apologizing, you can't help being sick." Sören kissed Dooku's sweaty forehead. "It's going to be all right. I already called Frankie's aunt and I'm taking the next couple days off to take care of you."

Dooku remembered that Sören had been in medical school once, and had even done an internship in a remote Icelandic village before suffering a breakdown from the stress of it all. Dooku could see that Sören would have made a fine doctor - he had a warm, gentle bedside manner, happy to be of whatever help he could. Dooku patted his bondmate's shoulder. "I love you."

"I know. I love you too. Now get your arse to sleep."

Getting back to sleep was difficult, with how much he hurt all over, and staying asleep was a chore. He kept running to the bathroom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this ill, and the powerlessness of it all terrified him. When it came time for him to call out of work, Sören had to dial the number for him, and Dooku could only choke out a few words to the chamber's receptionist. Thankfully, it had not gone unnoticed that he'd had to leave early due to illness, so it wasn't a big deal for him to take the rest of the week off.

Or at least, it wasn't a big deal as far as the chamber was concerned. Dooku felt awful about it once Sören hit the "end" button on the call. He had responsibilities, and he couldn't fulfill them.

"I also talked to Leja last night," Sören said.

"Oh no."

"I told her I won't be able to do the show on Thursday because you're sick."

"Sören. I would have understood if you'd gone to the show without me..."

Sören shook his head. "I would have been miserable the whole night. These events are hard enough for me as it is, never mind without my biggest source of emotional support." Sören squeezed Dooku's shoulder.

"I hope Leja wasn't too angry..."

"She was more worried about you, than she was upset about me cancelling. I gave her enough notice that she's going to do a quick reschedule with a charity concert or something, some art rock band. We did talk about rescheduling the show for sometime in early February. Hopefully neither of us will be sick then."

"Hopefully not." Dooku frowned, and attempted a small, weak smile. "I feel bad..."

"Like I told you last night, Nico, stop apologizing. It's not your fault you're sick. So I rescheduled my show for a few weeks, that's not the end of the world, and it means I can bang out a couple more paintings before then, maybe make some extra money." Sören smirked.

"I still feel awful about it." Dooku sighed. "I feel bloody awful, in general."

"Jæja, and this is why you need to get some more rest." Sören kissed his forehead.

Sören came back awhile later with some weak tea and toast. It turned out Dooku couldn't even keep that down, in and out of the bathroom again. Between trips to the bathroom he went between states of being awake, achy and miserable, and sleep that didn't feel restful at all, having wild, disturbing dreams. He was hot, and cold, and hot, and cold, back and forth between wanting no covers and needing extra covers. Every time he moved his body it hurt. Just going to the bathroom made him feel exhausted.

Time and rest didn't help - he felt like he was getting worse, not better, with each trip to the bathroom, wondering how he was even producing anything at all. After another fever dream, Sören woke him to take his temperature again, and Dooku watched as Sören looked at the thermometer and frowned.

"What's your physician's number?" Sören asked.

"I... don't remember." Dooku was used to remembering these things, and it scared him that he couldn't, feeling so foggy from the illness. "It's in my phone, under Kingsley."

When Sören called, Dooku felt the same twinge of alarm he'd felt when Sören had offered to call the chamber on his behalf, but at this point Dooku felt too weak and awful to complain. Sören asked for Dr. Kingsley to make a house call, and Dooku fell back asleep. Then, about two hours later, judging by the clock, there was the doctor, smiling at him with perfect white teeth contrasting against very dark skin.

"Mister Dooku," Dr. Kingsley said in his rich Jamaican accent. "I hear you have a bad case of the flu."

Dooku just nodded.

Dr. Kingsley took his vitals, and then he and Sören stepped out of the bedroom and had a bit of a chat about Dooku's symptoms, what the last couple of days had been like, and Dooku's activities prior to contracting the flu. Dooku finally heard Dr. Kingsley say, "His fever is high enough that if it doesn't go down in the next three hours I'd recommend sending him to the emergency room."

"To be honest I thought about sending him now," Sören said, "but I wanted to get a second opinion."

"I've seen these kinds of high fevers go down," Dr. Kingsley said, "and of course you want to avoid an unnecessary trip to the emergency room so he doesn't get sicker, as sometimes people do when they're in a hospital surrounded by other people who are sick. So I don't blame you for calling me first."

"It's good of you to come," Sören said. "I've been scared."

"It's good of you to take care of him," Dr. Kingsley said. "You're a good friend. Neighbor? Housekeeper?"

Sören coughed and said, "I'm his partner."

When Dooku had his birthday physical and had been asked if he was sexually active and affirmed - after years of the answer always being no - Dooku wasn't pressed as to whether he was sexually active with men, women, or both, and had been grateful for that; Dr. Kingsley just cared if he was playing it safe, or needed Viagra. But now, Dr. Kingsley knew, and Dooku felt a pit of dread rising in his stomach. He understood Sören wasn't in the habit of lying, but...

"Ah. Well, if he has to go to hospital and things... get worse... that means you can claim next of kin and make decisions on his behalf. Hopefully it won't come to that, but the flu can be vicious to the elderly."

"I know. I was in medical school, I had an elderly patient die from it."

"Keep an eye on him, yes. Like I said, in three hours if his fever doesn't go down have him go to the emergency room. If his fever does go down a little, then give him the Kaopectate."

"Thank you, Doctor Kingsley."

"You're welcome. I hope he feels better soon and remember to take care of yourself, too, mon. We don't want you getting sick either."

Dr. Kingsley left; Sören had Dooku drink some more Gatorade. Dooku fell back asleep, woke up to use the bathroom again - god, how he _hurt_ , ached into his bones - and then drifted in and out of consciousness until Sören poked him. He had the thermometer again. Sören sat next to him, looking anxious as Dooku kept the thermometer under his tongue, moaning with discomfort. Finally Sören pulled it out and looked at it, and Dooku heard the audible sigh of relief.

"Your fever has dropped by two degrees," Sören said. "You're still running a temp, but it's not scary high like it was when I decided to call your doctor."

Sören gave him more Gatorade, with a Kaopectate pill. "He didn't want you taking this sooner in case you'd have had to go to the hospital and be given some sort of meds there."

Dooku swallowed it, and downed the Gatorade. Sören had another, and he started gulping that down - even though he hated the taste of it, he couldn't remember being thirstier in his life.

"Get some more rest," Sören said, "I'll come back in awhile with toast and broth."

That sounded unappealing, but Dooku didn't argue with him. When Sören came back with the food, Dooku felt so weak it was difficult to hold a spoon, and Sören decided to spoon-feed him, as well as pull apart pieces of toast with his fingers and let Dooku eat the toast from his fingers, like the way Dooku gave Dragos treats.

The way Sören fed him and doted on him as he was being fed - petting his face and whiskers, skritching him - was adorable and somewhat comforting, but he still felt embarrassed, not just for being in such an undignified state, but Sören having to take care of him like this. If Sören minded, he wasn't letting it show, and indeed, Sören's tender loving care seemed full of genuine tenderness and love. But Dooku still felt guilt, nonetheless. He felt absolutely useless.

It wasn't just that, however - _the flu can be vicious to the elderly_ and _I had an elderly patient die from it_ were echoing in Dooku's mind. He was sixty-nine now, the last year of his sixties. He had outlived the age his parents were when they died. Of course, his parents had endured World War II and its privations - they'd come to the United Kingdom before Romania formally adopted communism, but just what they'd experienced before that had taken a toll on their health, resulting in them dying in their mid-sixties when Dooku was in his thirties. Dooku hadn't experienced the hardships they had, and medicine had advanced so much since they'd died back in the 1980s. Unlike his father, Dooku wasn't a smoker. But that he was now older than his parents were at the time of their death, and knowing that even with his good health he was at an age that made him more vulnerable to things like a simple cold or flu... that just this flu could completely incapacitate him as it had done... it shook him. One of the fears that flashed in his mind was being older than he was now, finally succumbing to some illness as a result of old age, being bedridden, unable to care for himself... and how that would affect Sören. Already in just two days, Dooku was completely dependent on the younger man. Was it fair to put him through this again, but for longer, and far worse, down the road? Especially with knowing Sören had quit medical school and had a nervous breakdown because of the stress of his internship, watching people suffer and die... _feeling_ it, in the Force. Sören had given him life, but what had he given to Sören? And what would he be taking away?

Dooku didn't want to think about that. Mercifully, he was still too sick to think about much for long. He drank more Gatorade, and went back to sleep.

On Thursday - the day when Sören would have had his solo exhibit at Leja's gallery - Dooku was still sick, though there was an improvement from Wednesday. His fever was starting to go down. The Kaopectate had stopped the runs. He still felt weak, achy, exhausted, and miserable, but it seemed like the worst of it was over. He ate more toast and broth - he still didn't have an appetite, but Sören made him eat. When Sören was ready for bed, he brought in fresh linens - Dooku had been sweating so much the last two days - and then Sören paused and asked, "Would you like a sponge bath?"

Dooku felt embarrassed again, but he did need to bathe after all the sweating and the shitting and the vomiting, especially if Sören was putting clean sheets on the bed, and he was still too weak to try to take a shower on his own. He nodded. Sören helped him undress, and then gently began to rub him down with a soapy washcloth.

"It's too bad you haven't been feeling well," Sören said. "Just looking at you is getting me worked up."

Dooku smiled. It did cheer him up, a little.

As tired and disgusting as Dooku felt, his cock still woke up when Sören washed it, making Sören grin. Sören began to wash it more slowly and deliberately, which got him a bit aroused, more when he saw the bulge in Sören's pajama bottoms. But then Sören was washing his legs, and Sören said, matter-of-factly, "Roll over."

Sören rubbed Dooku's back as he washed it. Dooku felt embarrassed again at having his ass washed, but the way Sören rubbed the washcloth also continued to build his arousal, so he almost didn't care. Sören continued rubbing his back with his free hand. He washed and washed, making sure Dooku was all cleaned up, and then he washed the back of his thighs and legs. When Sören rolled Dooku over, Sören looked at Dooku's full erection, and then down at his own.

"I think that fucking is off the table tonight," Sören said. "You still need to rest and get your strength back."

"I know," Dooku said.

"But..." Sören gave him a mischievous smile. "I can still take care of that for you."

Sören took Dooku into his mouth, and Dooku groaned. The blowjob was slow and sweet - Sören held Dooku's hand, squeezing it reassuringly, and Dooku pet Sören's face, stroked his curls, letting Sören see the love in his eyes, wanting him to feel how much he appreciated this, how much he appreciated _him_. As unsexy as being sick was, Sören still had a way of making him feel like a sex god, salvaging the last of the pride that had been broken through this ordeal. Part of Dooku's misery was feeling like this was the beginning of the end, a "new normal" of being invalid and needing Sören to care for him, but here and now, they were getting back to the way things were. He could feel the life flowing back into him, and when he at last came in Sören's mouth, the relief the orgasm gave him was the best medicine.

The orgasm also made him tired. He started dozing off, and then he felt shaking next to him - he opened his eyes and saw Sören stroking himself, obviously aroused from having given the blowjob. Dooku groaned at the delicious sight of it, wishing he weren't so spent. His eyes were riveted on Sören masturbating, and then finally Dooku felt he needed to do something to help, so he cupped Sören's chin in his hand and turned his face so they could kiss. And with that kiss, Sören climaxed, shooting cum over both of them. Dooku moaned, wishing again he weren't too exhausted. Sören collected some of the cum on his fingers and stuck them in Dooku's mouth to taste.

Dooku moaned again, savoring the taste of his bondmate. "That's the best thing I've put in my mouth in days." He nuzzled Sören. "I wish I could have done more."

Sören patted him. "It's all right. You're already doing better, you can just make it up to me once you're well again." Then he gave Dooku a gentle nudge. "I need to make this bed now."

Dooku leaned against the wall as Sören made the bed with fresh sheets. The crisp, cool cloth felt as wonderful as the orgasm had felt, deepening the post-orgasmic relief. Dooku melted into the clean sheets, making a little contented noise. Soon he felt Sören's arms around him, legs entwined.

Dooku got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom - just a normal trip - and then he had more Gatorade. He also had an appetite for the first time in days, but he was still too exhausted to try to walk down the hall and rummage for food in the kitchen. So he went back to sleep. Sören brought him breakfast in bed at his usual wake-up time; this time there was oatmeal porridge, which Sören had flavored with cinnamon and sugar, and slices of banana. For something so simple it was like ambrosia.

"If you can keep that down, I'll make you a real dinner tonight," Sören said.

"Thank you." Dooku kissed Sören, softly.

Dooku's fever had broken. He was still not fully recovered, so it was another day at home, but he didn't want to spend all of it in bed, either. Sören set him up in the living room with Gatorade and some lighter snacks like saltines, to watch television while he was down the hall painting. Dooku quickly got bored of what was on TV, but his head was still too foggy to try to read a book - he only got a few paragraphs in before he felt hazy and lost the ability to concentrate. So it was back to TV, and a nap on the couch, and when he woke up Sören was making dinner.

The chicken, potatoes and mixed vegetables were even better than the porridge that morning. Dooku was grateful to have an appetite again, and hoped he'd be able to keep everything down, but it did seem like the worst of it was over. Dooku offered to do the dishes, out of force of habit since Sören had cooked, but Sören vehemently shook his head.

"You're still not well enough for that," Sören said. "Go rest for awhile."

Dooku sat with Dragos - Sören told him over dinner the cat had been keeping vigil at Dooku's bedside or on the floor near the bed, most of the week. Dragos kneaded on him, purring, lulling him half-asleep. When Sören was ready he scooped Dragos off Dooku's lap and helped him down the hall, into bed. Dooku lamented that he was so tired so early, and Sören said, "You're still recovering. It's OK."

Dooku woke the next morning early, with a raging hard-on. Every nerve in his body screamed for sexual release. _Calm down,_ Dooku told himself. _You went most of your life without it, and were fine..._ But now that he'd been having it, and gotten used to it, it was like a drug. Dooku's mind flashed back to the night before last, when Sören had masturbated next to him, and that just flamed his arousal even more.

Sören was woken with a kiss, and he gave Dooku a sleepy smile. That smile broadened into a grin when he felt Dooku's erection pressed against him. "Oh my, what's this?" Sören asked. He reached down to rub Dooku through his pajamas. "Feeling better, are we?"

Dooku kissed him again, harder, deeper. When they pulled apart, breathless, their eyes met. "You told me I could make it up to you once I was well again."

"That I did."

They kissed again, and again, and soon their pajamas were in a heap on the floor. Laying side by side, Sören hooked an arm around Dooku's waist and Dooku slid into him, and fucked Sören slowly, sensually, savoring every moment of catching up. He knew he'd missed their lovemaking, but the feeling of union with his bondmate was deep, resounding joy in every fiber of his being. Every kiss, every touch, every gaze was perfect in its timing and its beauty. Dooku kept the pace slow as long as he could, needing to feel and feel and feel, but at last the sensation and lust got the better of him, and with a growl he rolled Sören onto his back and plowed him hard, fucking him into the mattress. Sören loved it, whimpering, screaming, clawing Dooku's back, and when Sören came it was more explosive than Dooku had ever seen or felt, and that brought Dooku over the edge into an orgasm almost frightening in its intensity. They melted together in the Force, truly one flesh, not knowing where one ended and the other began in the endless throbbing waves of pleasure.

They lay there gasping for breath, and then kissed deeply, their palms pressed together, fingers entwined. "I missed that," Dooku said, then more softly, "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Sören smiled, and let go of Dooku's hand to pet his face, his whiskers. "I missed you all week." He frowned. "I was very worried about you for awhile there, and I did a lot of thinking about what would happen if..." His voice trailed off and he swallowed hard, fighting off tears.

"Love." Dooku's voice was husky with emotion. He fought off the returning mental image of growing older, being infirm and bedridden, Sören a wreck trying to take care of him. He stroked Sören's face and leaned in to kiss Sören's forehead. "I survived." He took Sören's hand and pressed it to his lips to kiss, before pressing it to his heart. "At some point, we should indeed talk about..." He didn't need to say it, and as importantly, didn't _want_ to say it.

"At some point we should, just like we should at some point talk about you not being out." Sören pursed his lips.

Dooku felt a little sting across their Force bond - he hadn't realized that the matter of him not having come out to people like his co-workers or his physician would be such a sore spot with the younger man. "We will." Then Dooku stroked Sören's face again, lost in his beautiful, expressive dark eyes. He could feel Sören's hurt, and he wanted to make it better, somehow. "But right now, I don't want to talk."

He claimed Sören's mouth with his, and took both of their spent cocks into his hand, coaxing them back to life. A minute later Sören rolled him onto his back, reaching with the Force for their lube, and for the next while, all their cares were pushed away.


	21. Chapter 21

After Dooku's bout with the flu, life returned to normal, with Dooku and Sören back to their usual routines. Things were in fact so back to normal that they never got around to having the talk about Dooku's advancing age, or the matter of his not being out. There were times when Dooku considered bringing it up, but quickly decided against it. For the time being, they were in a holding pattern, and that was their refuge from the stresses of their jobs; Dooku didn't want to rock the boat and create more stress for them both.

Then the beginning of February came.

Sören's exhibit was rescheduled for Friday, February 9th. Sören had been working feverishly on some last-minute pieces for the show, and had to have them all picked out by no later than Wednesday, so they could be brought to the gallery and displayed, and Sören and Leja would be working together on where each painting was located. On Tuesday, the night before, Frankie came for dinner - part of Sören and Dooku's routine had been having Frankie over once or twice a week, and having Qui and Obi over once a week or going to their house for dinner. While it was more social activity than Dooku had been used to in a long time, he didn't particularly mind it, and he rather enjoyed seeing Sören animated around his best friend.

Sören and Frankie had also further bonded over Margrét; Margrét and Frankie had been in regular contact over e-mail and Skype since Margrét went back to Iceland after the holidays, and Margrét had plans to visit London again in the spring, and Frankie in particular. It became obvious from the way Frankie talked about Margrét that she had a crush on her, but still felt shy about saying or doing anything to express her interest, and Sören was once again trying to convince Frankie to tell Margrét already. Frankie finally made a bid to change the subject by saying, "You wanted me to give you a second opinion on the paintings for your show, yeah?"

Sören gave Frankie a look and wagged his finger, but then he turned to Dooku and asked, "Is it all right if she sees the meditation room?"

If it had not been revealed that Frankie was Force-sensitive, Dooku would have said no, but he simply nodded. Sören pulled Frankie up from the couch and they walked down the hall, while Dooku sat in his armchair, watching the news.

From down the hall, Dooku heard Frankie squeal at the sight of what Sören had done with the meditation room itself, and he smiled, feeling pride in his bondmate's artistic talents. Then they were talking, and Dooku's concentration floated back to the news for the next few minutes, until he heard Frankie yell "D'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW."

Dooku couldn't help but eavesdrop, tuning his sensitive hearing to the conversation. He heard Frankie say, "That's so sweet." Then Frankie made vomiting noises. "Gross, but sweet."

"Fuck you," Sören teased. "But I think that's my finest work."

"I agree," Frankie said. "You should definitely show that one. Just... it would be weird to sell it and have it on display on someone else's house, y'know wot I mean?"

"That one wouldn't be for sale," Sören said. "The others, yes, but not this. I'd never intended to sell this one."

Sören and Frankie came back a few minutes later, and had one more cup of tea before Sören brought Frankie back to Greenwich on the back of his scooter. When Sören returned he was in good spirits. He put his arms around Dooku and said, "Now it's your turn to give me an opinion."

Dooku went through Sören's canvases - some of which had been painted before they met. Sören had over fifty paintings and had to narrow the showcase down to thirteen regular paintings and one _pièce de résistance_. Dooku went with a combination of Sören's older work and newer work, and just before he could select the thirteenth regular painting and his choice for the centerpiece, he finally noticed that one of the canvases Sören had out for selection was the one he'd painted for Dooku's birthday, of the two of them naked, albeit in a pool of water from the waist down, embracing and kissing under the aurora.

"You..." Dooku looked at Sören, and at the painting, and at Sören again. "Frankie saw this?"

"Já," Sören said, nodding. He picked up on Dooku's discomfort and said, "It isn't like she doesn't know we fuck. And she agrees with me that that's my best one and should go in the show."

"Well, I would agree that it is your finest painting. But -"

Sören took a deep breath. He folded his arms.

"Let's sit down and have a talk," Dooku said.

They sat down in the living room, Dooku in the armchair, Sören on the couch. A few moments of awkward silence passed, as Dooku gathered his words. Finally he spoke. "I love that painting," Dooku said. "But I don't want it in the show."

"It wouldn't be for sale, just for display," Sören assured him. "It was your birthday present, I'm not selling that."

"That's not..." Dooku sighed. "What I'm objecting to isn't on the basis of it having been a birthday present, Sören."

Sören pursed his lips, looking a little annoyed.

"If I go with you to the event - as I intend to, because I want to be there for you - it is going to be very, very obvious that painting is of us, in a rather... intimate pose. And even if I were to not go with you to the event, Leja's gallery is patroned by people in the area who _do_ know me, some of whom are my colleagues at work. They would recognize me in that painting." Dooku sat back in his chair. "I don't have an objection to you using the other painting where I'm a subject - the one you painted of me at the Dimmuborgir, with my cape blowing in the wind, where it looks almost mythical. But I would prefer that you not show the painting of us, even though it is your finest work to date and I understand the purpose of this show is to get you exposure through the best you have to offer. As I've told you more than once before, I'm not out."

"Well, I am," Sören said. "I've been out since I was sixteen, which is seventeen years being openly gay."

"I understand that," Dooku said.

"I'm not going back in the closet for you or anyone."

"I wasn't asking you to."

"In a way, you kind of were," Sören said. "Look. Nico. Over the years I've been showing my art, I've had the occasional interview in zines where I've mentioned I'm gay, and this can be Googled if you're looking for me on the Internet. At the show on Friday I have to have a short bio with my work, and that bio mentions I live in Bermondsey with my partner. I don't name him, but even if you've never heard of me, never read an interview with me, in art circles 'partner' usually infers 'same-sex partner', because it's a given that a fuckton of us are queer. If you come with me to my show, you're not even going to hold my hand in public? I can't introduce you as my partner?"

Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sören, I've mentioned this to you before but it's worth bringing up again - I was born in 1948. When I was your age, homosexuality was still seen as a very bad thing in society, enough that it was a contributing factor to why I didn't act on certain curiosities I had. There has only really been a change of public opinion over the last decade or so, and even _now_ , in 2018, there is still a strong conservative presence in England that adheres to more 'traditional values'. My profession in _particular_ tends to have a number of people in that category. I haven't been able to be fired from my job on the grounds of sexual orientation since 2003, but that doesn't mean that disclosing something like that would be well-received either - there are ways to create a hostile work environment."

"You could just say fuck em and retire?"

Dooku glared. "No, I bloody well _could not._ I haven't already retired. Just because I am an old man doesn't mean I can't continue to work if I want to, and I have been doing this since I graduated from Oxford over forty years ago. It is my life, for better or worse. Just 'retiring', especially over drama I could have easily prevented by keeping my private life private, is not an attractive option to me."

"Well, being with a closeted partner isn't an attractive option to me either," Sören said. "Love you as I do, I'm kind of done being with self-loathing, closeted, conflicted gay men."

"It sounds like there's some history behind that statement."

"There is. My longest-term relationship was with a closeted gay man - a Brazilian, named Alejandro, a musician - who eventually chose a 'normal' life, over me. He wasn't even in love with the girl he married, he just did it to please his family."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Dooku sighed. "But I'm not him. There is rather a big difference between not wanting to make a public proclamation, and pretending I'm heterosexual. I'm not about to go after a wife and children. And I'm not ashamed of who I am - this isn't about shame."

"Nico, I'm not asking you to march in a parade, or start flying a rainbow flag on your car, or sing show tunes at work. What I'm asking is that we not have to hide who we are. It doesn't mean you have to stand on your desk at the chamber and yell, 'HEY GUESS WHAT EVERYBODY, I'M GAY!' But the idea that we can't be affectionate in public, I can't introduce you as my partner... it doesn't sit well with me." Sören frowned. "Especially because you are getting older. I know that you're in really good health, and good shape..." He attempted a wink, to try to lighten the mood. "But you were also very ill a month ago, to the point where I considered having you brought to the hospital. And if there ever comes a time when you're sick enough that has to be a thing... or if I'm sick enough, for that matter... and you're too incapacitated to make medical decisions for yourself, or I can't for myself, then we can claim next of kin and make medical decisions for the other. But that involves having to tell a doctor, 'This is my same-sex partner.'"

"On that note, you outed me to my physician," Dooku said.

"I'm... surprised he didn't already know, to be honest? Doctors usually want to know if their patient is in the 'men who have sex with men' category, because even with me being clean and us being monogamous, he'll want you to get tested every now and again."

"That still wasn't your place to tell him."

"He fucking _asked me_ what my relationship was to you. What was I supposed to do, lie?"

Dooku didn't have an answer for that. Sören gave an exasperated sigh.

Then Sören said, "Also? While you're worrying about how your posh barrister co-workers might react to finding out you have a boyfriend? You were there when you saw my aunt Katrín spew her hatred at me on her deathbed. Now imagine _growing up with that_. Imagine coming out when you were sixteen, living with _that_ \- she was like that before she got religion, her religion was just a way to justify it. And seventeen years ago, when I came out, Iceland wasn't quite as progressive on LGBT issues as it is now. It wasn't uncommon for gay people to get harassed on the street, when I was younger. I moved to Reykjavik from Akureyri because of that, actually, even though I never quite adjusted to life in the big city."

Dooku folded his hands - he could hear the anger rising in Sören's voice, could feel it boiling in their Force bond.

Sören went on. "The sad thing is I know lots of people who've had it far worse than myself. Countless people who got thrown out by their parents, on the street, for coming out. Frankie is one of those people - her mum flipped her shit when Frankie came out to her, and if her aunt hadn't been around she'd be homeless in London, probably. She still doesn't talk to her mother. And since I moved to London over two years ago? I hear the odd homophobic slur, I've had people threaten me in public restrooms just for innocently going to the bathroom next to them, and all of that shite. Some dude pulled a knife on me once."

Dooku sighed.

Sören continued, with even more of an edge in his voice. "And then we have my sister. You want to tell me how hard you _might_ have it at your cushy job where you still _will not be fired_ if they find out? Because that shite has been illegal in the UK since 2003? Well, let me tell you - my sister is self-employed because _even in Iceland_ , a so-called 'progressive' country on LGBT rights issues, she was _denied work_ I don't know how many _fucking_ times. And she still worries about using public restrooms, yes, _even in 2018 in Iceland_ , people _still_ say shit to her once in awhile. When she travels outside Iceland, she has to worry about possibly being beaten to death, or worse. And yet, she is what she is. She lives as a woman, even though she's over six feet tall and you can tell she has an Adam's apple and her voice is deep for a woman's, so it's a bit obvious to most people she's trans. She's not living a lie, trying to be male so society won't give her its bullshit. So you're asking the _wrong fucking person_ to go back in the fucking closet and be sympathetic over whether or not your co-workers get a little passive-aggressive to you."

Dooku waited, wanting to make sure Sören was done ranting - he knew interrupting Sören would make him even more upset. After a few moments of silence, Dooku finally said, "Just because I have not suffered as much as you, or your sister, does not mean my concerns are not valid. You and Frankie and your sister and many others have endured much. But I was a young man when the Stonewall riots happened and you were not even a gleam in your parents' eyes. You were not there when AIDS was new and enough hatred and vitriol was unleashed upon the gay population that I felt it was better to spend the rest of my life _alone_ , however lonely I was, however much it _hurt_ , than risk being outed in those days. I sacrificed a _lot_ for the sake of my career, which is to serve the greater good, to be a force for justice in a cruel, unjust world. You think I work some sort of posh job because of my wig and my robes, I've eaten from a vending machine in a windowless brick room more times than I can count. I defend the innocent and the guilty alike, the innocent who are often racially profiled or some other unjust reason, and with those who are guilty, they are almost always in the criminal system because they have had too few opportunities, too much oppression, and are not bad people, just people who need to get their act together. I have had to be psychiatrist, social worker, father, to my clients, and am too often one of the first people who has ever demonstrated giving a damn about them. You will have to _excuse me_ for wanting to take some precautions to not have all I've worked so hard for, destroyed like a house of cards."

Sören was quiet, reflecting on that, and then he replied with, "Keep telling yourself that you're fighting the good fight, that you're standing up for justice, when you can't even fucking stand up for yourself, Nico."

That comment stung like a slap in the face, and indeed, Dooku thought bitterly, it would have been kinder if Sören had slapped him. Dooku got up, departed to his study without a word, and spent the rest of the night there.

When it was time to go to bed, Dooku heard the TV in the living room, and poked his head in. Sören was watching TV with an unimpressed look on his face, idly petting Dragos.

"Come to bed," Dooku said.

Sören said nothing, just flipped a channel.

Dooku sighed, and went to their bedroom. He skipped his usual meditation routine - he didn't want to be in the meditation room, surrounded by the energy of Sören's paintings and Sören's energy, just then. He changed into his pajamas and went to bed, alone. When he got up the next morning, he was still alone in his bed, and it took him a few minutes to leave the bed, feeling like he was made out of lead.

His first act was to feed Dragos, and then he saw that Sören had fallen asleep on the couch, with a blanket wrapped around him. Dooku sat on the footstool next to the couch and lightly shook him awake.

Sören blinked slowly, and then they just looked at each other.

Despite Dooku's wounded feelings at their discussion last night - not the least of which being a wound to his pride, knowing Sören had some valid points - he couldn't bear the thought of Sören upset with him. He took Sören's hands in his and kissed them. "Sören," he said, "I'm sorry. Please just... bear with me as I figure all of this out." He frowned. "I'm scared. Please understand that. Just even having this, having someone, has been a big step for me. Change is difficult. I don't want to make you hide in the closet, that isn't fair to you, no. I just need time and a plan to figure out how to come out, myself."

Sören sat up, put his arms around Dooku, and held him tight for a moment. When they pulled apart they looked at each other again, and then Sören leaned in and kissed him hard. Dooku kissed him back, and his body responded to the kiss. After a few more kisses, Dooku peeled the sheet off Sören and picked him up off the couch, physically carrying him down the hall. He put Sören down on the bed and began to undress; Sören undressed also. Dooku went into the bathroom to turn on the shower, and Sören followed him into the shower.

Underneath the hot water they held each other, kissing, cocks rubbing together, and at last in the heat of passion, Dooku picked up Sören once more and pushed his back against the shower wall. He used the Force to bring over their lube from the bedroom, and as the bottle levitated in the air and poured over his cock, Sören began stroking Dooku's cock, working in the lube, then Sören helped guide it to his opening. Sören wrapped his arms and legs around Dooku and gasped and panted as Dooku pushed inside. Once he was all the way in, they kissed. Sören reached to stroke Dooku's face and they pressed their foreheads together, nuzzling, breathing each other's breath.

Then Dooku took him hard, pounding into Sören mercilessly, as Sören screamed, "Yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me Nico, _fuck me_." Soon Dooku was kissing him again and Sören whimpered and moaned into each kiss. Dooku groaned too, overcome by the feeling of being in heat for his beloved, needing to fuck him, claim him, drive away any lingering resentment or doubt, so that nothing came between them. Sören's silken channel melting to him and the urgent need of their fuck almost undid him right away but he held back, thrusting fast and furious, cock throbbing and balls aching, waiting for Sören to come first. Wanting Sören to come hard.

And come hard Sören did, exploding all over Dooku's chest and stomach without his cock even being touched, just from the feel of Dooku's cock banging away at his prostate. At the delicious sounds of Sören's cries, and the sight and feel of his hot cum spraying him, marking his territory, Dooku gave into his own release, shuddering and crying out as he spent deep inside Sören, felt wave after wave of pleasure and relief. Then they kissed, moaning as they came down, rocking together slowly under the water cascading over them, melting all troubles away.

They didn't speak as they got dressed. Sören finally broke the silence as he walked Dooku to the front door. He put his arms around Dooku and kissed him again. "Have a good day at work," Sören said.

"You too."

"I love you."

"I know." Dooku smiled, and stroked Sören's face. "But I never get tired of hearing it. I love you too."

Sören nodded, and squeezed his hands. "We'll help you find your way, together."

Dooku nodded. He blew Sören a kiss and waved, and then he was off to work.

When he didn't have to go straight to court, his chamber typically started off the morning with tea and reading the newspaper. One of his colleagues, who was roughly the same age and who Dooku knew voted Tory, was reading the entertainment section. "Elton John is playing Vegas," he remarked. "I can't believe that old queen is still performing, at his age. Would have thought he'd be dead of AIDS a long time ago, or drugs, like too many of those lot do to deal with not being normal."

Dooku's face fell. He sipped his tea and said nothing - he gave the man a dirty look, but still said nothing. He thought about coming out right then and there, but felt flooded with anxiety, especially when no one else at the table challenged the statement. He was relieved when everyone got up from the table and it was time to start the actual work day... but also ashamed that he hadn't said anything.

He felt like he was at a crossroads, and either path terrified him. Yet, there was no standing still and no going back.


	22. Chapter 22

The next two days passed uneventfully - Sören and Dooku didn't pick the coming-out discussion back up - and then it was time for Sören's show.

Sören and Dooku wore the same outfits they'd worn to the show where they'd met back in October. Though Dooku felt ill at ease in a large crowd, he managed to take the edge off by ogling Sören in leather pants, watching his lithe frame work the floor, giving groups of gallery patrons the tour across his selected paintings.

At last Sören was back at his side again, and Sören directed him to the spread of hors d'oeuvres. Dooku could tell Sören wanted to take his hand, both for Dooku's reassurance and his own, but Sören was respectful of Dooku's concerns about public affection so he didn't.

After they had a few snacks, Sören and Dooku went around the room together, so Dooku could take a good look at the paintings on display for what might be the last time he saw some of them, being Sören had prospective buyers. Dooku lingered at the portrait of him at the Dimmuborgir - he'd been aware some people looked at the painting and looked at him, making the connection that he'd been the subject. The painting was called _Ancestors_ , which seemed like an appropriate title due to the mythic feel of the piece, moreso for being set in a winter landscape with a dramatic sunset. Dooku felt a little odd that a painting of him might hang on someone else's wall, but it was indeed one of Sören's best pieces and he was glad to see Sören get the recognition and reward he deserved. He studied the painting - as usual, Sören had captured something ineffable with his brush, in this case, Dooku's melancholy, and lifelong sense of loneliness. It was something Sören understood well himself, though they coped with it differently.

Dooku was so lost in Sören's work that it took him longer than usual to feel someone staring at him. Dooku finally looked over his shoulder - a middle-aged woman in a vibrant tie-dyed shirt over a frilly dress, wearing several beaded necklaces of varying lengths, smiled and walked over to them.

She shook Sören's hand, and Sören, being a gentleman, took her hand and kissed it, European-style. She laughed and then said, "You have such a gift. Your work is absolutely _magical_." She turned to Dooku then and said, "You must be so proud of your son."

Dooku's jaw dropped.

Dooku wanted to say, "He isn't my son," but he couldn't. He couldn't make words at all, his mouth suddenly dry, anxiety stealing his ability to think.

Sören opened his mouth - seemingly about to correct her - and just then, Leja interrupted. "Sören," Leja said, "there's someone who's interested in five of your paintings and giving you a commission, if you'd come with me and we can negotiate price."

Sören nodded. He cleared his throat, said to the woman, "Excuse me," and then shot Dooku a look as he walked off.

Just before Dooku could finally gather his words to correct the woman's assumption, she was off, schmoozing with other gallery patrons. Which was just as well, because Dooku still felt anxiety gnawing at him, and it moved his feet without him really thinking about it. He spent the rest of the show in the bathroom, feeling wave after wave of self-consciousness about their age difference, the fears resurfacing about growing even older, and when the inevitable came. Was it fair to condemn Sören to this?

Sören found him in the restroom, over an hour later. Dooku realized it was a mirror of their first meeting, when it had been Sören hiding in the bathroom from anxiety. And though Dooku had picked up on Sören bristling at Dooku not immediately correcting the woman's assumption that Sören was his son, Sören cast his annoyance aside when he saw how shaken up Dooku was.

"Are you ready to go home?" Sören asked.

Dooku nodded. Then he choked out, "I'm sorry," and started to cry, a little.

Sören reached in his pants pocket and produced a handkerchief - his own - and handed it to Dooku, who wiped his face and began to take deep breaths, attempting to pull himself together before he left the sanctuary of the bathroom. A few minutes later they walked out of the restroom together, past the last few stragglers. Leja met them near the door.

"Goodnight," she said. She hugged each of them and kissed their cheeks. At the look on Dooku's face when they pulled apart, Leja gave him a quizzical look, but Dooku didn't want to elaborate on it, he just wanted to get out of there.

They drove home in silence. It was a Friday night but Sören had to work Saturday morning, and it was past their usual bedtime anyway, so instead of making love they just cuddled together. Sören fell asleep first, and Dooku watched him sleep as he tried to settle down. He felt conflicted between the love he felt for his bondmate - especially with Sören looking so beautiful as he slept - and the feeling of anxiety about their age difference, the increasing guilt of the burden his aging would place on the younger man. Dooku's anxiety and restlessness got bad enough that he thought about throwing his winter coat on over his pajamas and going for a walk outside, but he was reluctant to leave the warmth of their bed and the coziness of Sören next to him. 

As if he detected the mood Dooku was in, Dragos hopped up from the footstool onto the bed. It took Dragos a moment to stretch before he walked over, slowly - the cat was fourteen years old now, needing stools to climb, and the hitch as he walked suggested arthritis. Dragos walked on top of the cuddling couple and settled onto Dooku's chest, kneading and purring. Dooku reached out to stroke the cat, and soothed by the sound of the deep, rumbly purrs, Dooku at last fell asleep.

 

_

 

Sören had accepted the commission he was given at the art show, but unfortunately the commission was on a tight deadline, which meant that over the next few days Dooku didn't see much of Sören - he would come out of the meditation room only to go to work, eat, bathe and use the bathroom, and sleep. However, Sören's creative energy was directly tied to sexual energy, and at least when they settled down in bed together, Sören wanted to make love.

Seeing less of Sören left Dooku alone with his thoughts more, and increasingly, they were clouded by fear and doubt. He couldn't stop thinking about their age difference, and feeling like he was being unfair to Sören, being selfish in some way. And not just for the matter of his advancing age, but his continued reluctance to come out. He knew Sören was upset about having to mask their relationship at the art exhibit, though Sören hadn't brought it up. They still hadn't resolved that issue, and Dooku was starting to see it as encapsulating the problem of their significant age difference - they were from two different generations, that might as well have been two different worlds.

Such was Dooku's downward spiral that when Sören crawled into bed on Tuesday night and said, "I'm finished," it was as if his heart stopped. Dooku couldn't breathe, his stomach sinking, his entire body frozen and leaden.

Then Sören leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. "The commission is done. Do you want to see it?"

Dooku let out an audible sigh of relief. It took him a moment to get out of that panic response and unfreeze himself, simply nodding his head; fortunately it wasn't so dark that Sören couldn't see that.

Sören took him by the hand and led him across the hall to the meditation room. The canvas on the easel had a painting of a forest on fire, with a phoenix being born out of the flames. Dooku gave a small smile, and without thinking about it, reached behind Sören, tracing the outline of the tattoos on his back through the fabric of Sören's T-shirt - the pattern he'd memorized over the last few months, the tangible expression of the way Sören walked in beauty, with sensitivity and strength and grace. "That's gorgeous," Dooku said. "It's almost a pity you're selling that."

"I'd be sorrier to sell it if the money from it wasn't so good," Sören laughed. Then, obviously self-conscious, he ran a hand through his curls and said, "Not that I'm in this just for the money, but when you've been a starving artist -"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be compensated for your work." Dooku patted Sören's back.

"Anyway," Sören said, "I did ask my patron if she would allow me to make some prints of it so long as she got to keep the original, and she agreed to that. So at least there's that." Sören laughed again. "I don't know where you'd put it, since you have so much of my art on display..."

"Oh, I could hang it in the hall," Dooku said, "or on another wall in the living room, perhaps."

"Perhaps."

Dooku took a few more minutes to study the painting and appreciate it, and then Sören said, "Tomorrow, after work, I'm bringing that by her house, so I'll be a little late getting home."

Dooku nodded.

"But," Sören went on, "I have a little surprise for you."

Dooku raised an eyebrow.

"Tomorrow is Valentine's Day," Sören said.

"Ah, so it is." Dooku being a lifelong bachelor up till now, had never made much of the holiday, and February 14th often didn't even register with him as being a day out of the ordinary.

"I used a little of the money I'm being paid for this to, ah, do something romantic." Sören gave a nervous laugh. "I made reservations at a nice restaurant in London."

"Oh, you did."

Sören nodded.

"That was very nice of you." Dooku leaned in to give Sören a soft, gentle kiss.

Sören kissed him back, and the kiss grew heated. Soon they were walking backwards into their bedroom, undressing on the way to the bed. Sören pushed Dooku down on the bed, onto his back, and Sören kissed him even more hungrily, before kissing Dooku's neck and shoulder. Dooku moaned, and reached down to take both their already-hard cocks in his fist, stroking them together slowly, teasing them both. Sören's response was to start licking and suckling his nipples, knowing how sensitive he was there.

Feverish, Dooku used the Force to bring over the bottle of lube. Sören poured it over their cocks, and Dooku stroked them a little while longer as they kissed, and Dooku returned the favor to Sören's nipples, making Sören pant and whimper, bucking against him. When Sören couldn't take it anymore, he straddled Dooku's hips and slowly sank down on his cock. They both cried out when Dooku was all the way in, loving that first moment of connection, union of their flesh.

Sören rode him slowly, running his hands over Dooku's chest and arms and thighs. "I love you," he husked.

"I love you." Dooku looked up and into Sören's beautiful dark eyes, and reached to stroke Sören's face, his beard.

Sören leaned down and kissed him, hard. Dooku wrapped his arms around Sören and began to thrust into him harder, faster, feeling a sense of urgency rather than his usual need to take it slow and savor.

But even with the urgency, they still held back from coming too soon. Sören rode him hard, and Dooku pounded into him, for as long as they could. The tension built, the lust growing stronger as the wet slurping sound of their fuck and slap of Dooku's balls against Sören's ass got louder and louder, the delicious sight of both of them breaking a sweat. They fucked and fucked, completely lost in heat for each other.

Close to the finish, Dooku stroked Sören's cock in time with his thrusts - Sören's cock was leaking so much precum that his entire shaft glistened with it and it pooled over Dooku's hand. Sören collected some of it from Dooku's hand onto his fingers and stuck them in Dooku's mouth. Dooku groaned, sucking the precum from Sören's fingers. When Sören wiped more precum onto his own nipples for Dooku to lick off, Dooku almost lost it. At last, drawing Sören's nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, Dooku felt Sören begin to shoot; Sören threw back his head and let out a long howling wail, shuddering violently as cum erupted from his cock, soaking them both. Dooku cried out as his own orgasm overtook him, and Sören shuddered again and blasted more cum as he felt Dooku spending deep inside him.

They held each other, foreheads pressed together, gasping for breath, and then kissed deeply.

Dooku felt exhausted and exhilarated - he looked at the clock and noted they'd been fucking for close to forty-five minutes, which was something of a new record for them for one session. It was one of the most satisfying releases he'd ever had if not the most satisfying, feeling relief into his bones, melting him. The release was so shattering that when he looked at Sören and saw the love in his eyes, it made him start to cry.

Sören leaned in to kiss his tears, tenderly, which made him cry harder. Sören let him cry for a few minutes before nuzzling him and asking, "Are you OK?"

Dooku didn't know how to express what he was feeling, and he didn't completely understand all of it himself, but some of it was just the sense of how ephemeral it was, a beautiful moment in time, that had passed like a sunset or a rainbow and there would never be another quite like it. He looked at his magnificent bondmate, smiling and gentle and warm, and he ached with how deeply he'd fallen for the younger man, and how much he didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to break him, and he felt like that was still inevitable, somehow.

So Dooku said nothing. He just kissed Sören's soft, sweet lips, and nuzzled him, and said, softly, "I love you."

He pulled Sören close, and pet Sören to sleep. He watched Sören sleep for awhile, continuing to feel a sense of melancholy, but soon he was asleep as well.

 

_

 

Dooku was already home when Sören arrived home the next day, later than originally planned, late enough that they would have to rush to make the reservation in time. Dooku heard the sound of Sören's scooter and got up to let him in. He was about to ask if everything was all right, but the look on Sören's face told him it very much was not.

"I need to change," was all Sören said - he was in clothes more suited for the coffee shop than for a posh restaurant.

Sören quickly changed in their bedroom, and came out wearing leather pants and a white ruffly shirt with a black vest. He looked like a rock star, and Dooku felt that thrust in his loins just looking at him. The fact that Sören noticed Dooku was looking at him like he was dinner and didn't respond with flirting or teasing in some way was a bad sign.

The first few minutes of their trip in the Jaguar, they rode in silence; Sören had his arms folded, seething. Dooku finally asked, "What's wrong?"

Sören let out a sigh. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Are you very sure you still want to go to dinner? We could turn around and go home and get takeaway if you're not -"

Sören waved his hand dismissively. "It'll be a nice change of pace."

"All right."

Sören sighed again, and ran his hand through his curls. "So that commission I did."

"Yes."

"I brought it with me to work, so I could just take it with me on the way back to my patron's house."

Dooku braced himself.

"While I was in the restroom and Frankie was out in front, one of our customers somehow got in the back room. I came out of the bathroom just in time to see him making off with my painting and some other stuff. I chased after him, he had someone pick him up in a getaway car."

"Did you get the plates?"

Sören nodded. "Police report has been filed - by the way, I fucking _hate_ the police. They acted like somehow we were up to something dodgy as opposed to the bloke who got in there and stole shit from us."

Dooku gave a small, rueful smile. "Most of my clients also hate the police, although usually because they're on the opposite end of the equation."

"Já, if they're acting like this to people who didn't even do anything wrong, I can only imagine how they are to your clients." Sören shook his head.

"But obviously your painting has not been recovered."

"No, it fucking has not. And as you know, I had to bring it over today because the person she's giving it to has their birthday on Friday. She was not happy, at all, and she gave me a lot of shit about it. And maybe I shouldn't have brought it to work with me but it's not like we get thieves in there every day? So I didn't think it was an incorrect assumption to bring my painting to work with me and it would still be there when my shift ended. But apparently this was my fault. So I had to refund her the money she paid for that commission, and she wanted it back _immediately_. Obviously I don't carry thousands of dollars on me at once. She insisted on going with me to the fucking bank and watching as I made a fucking withdrawal, rather than letting me go there myself and trusting me to come back with the money. She also got on the phone with Leja while I was still there and complained to her and told her she'd be withdrawing her monthly gallery membership if I was ever given a show there again."

"Bloody hell." Dooku took a hand off the wheel to pat Sören's knee. "I'm very sorry you went through that."

"Já, so am I."

"Should we even be doing this? Did you have to refund her for the other five pieces she bought, does she no longer want those?"

"I did not have to refund her for those. Though she made a remark about how she's probably going to sell them now so she doesn't have to look at them and have such a bad taste in her mouth." Sören sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I even told her I'd take the next two days off from work and paint it over again - I remember what I painted and how to paint it, I could make another. But she said no."

"That's bloody awful." Dooku frowned. "I wish there was something I could do."

They got a table for two in a quiet corner of the restaurant. They shared an assortment of appetizers - Sören was upset enough that he wasn't particularly hungry, so Dooku had to encourage him to eat. But nibbling on appetizers did seem to help take the edge off.

When Sören had been looking at the menu and musing aloud as to his considerations, Dooku noticed that Sören was looking at the least expensive choices on the pricey menu, while still encouraging him to get whatever he wanted. Dooku had the feeling that Sören was a little worried about the expenditure after having to refund the commission, and Dooku said, "Order whatever you want. We can split the bill, or I'll pay."

Sören frowned. "I feel bad. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you. Once in awhile I'd like to be able to do nice things for you -"

"You already do a lot of nice things for me." Dooku started playing footsie with Sören under the table. "Like last night."

Sören smirked, and shoved a chicken tender in his mouth.

By the time their waiter came back, Sören managed to pull himself together enough to at least fake a smile when he ordered. Sören ordered a larger steak than what he'd originally considered, with a side of shrimp and scallops. Dooku had the same, and they also decided on the same soup and salad.

They were fairly quiet during their meal, and Sören seemed to relax a little. Dooku had room for dessert, and knew Sören had a sweet tooth and that might make him continue to ease up, so he handed Sören the dessert menu. When the waiter came back to take their dessert orders, and had jotted them down, he finally gave them a broad smile above and beyond professional courtesy.

Dooku raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"Ah, I just think it's sweet, is all," the waiter said. He looked at Sören and said, "Good of you to take your da out on Valentine's Day, the old folks shouldn't be alone then."

Dooku's jaw dropped. So did Sören's.

Before either of them could say anything, the waiter took off. When he came back with their desserts, Dooku muttered his thanks.

"Anything else?" the waiter asked.

"Já, there is one thing." With that, Sören leaned over to give Dooku a deep, passionate kiss.

Dooku gave a little whimper of initial protest, but couldn't help responding, melting into the kiss, kissing Sören back. Sören playfully rubbed his tongue against Dooku's before kissing him again, moaning "mmmmm" into the kiss. Then Sören pulled away and told the waiter, "He's not my father."

Dooku looked around nervously to see if he recognized anyone or anyone recognized him - they'd made a bit of a scene just now. Dooku shoveled down his cake as fast as he could, feeling an awkward mix of arousal and self-consciousness, while Sören took his time. When Sören realized Dooku was rushing, he went even more slowly, which Dooku bristled at - surely Sören knew how uncomfortable he was.

A different waitstaff handled their check, and Dooku and Sören walked out to the Jaguar in silence. They were almost home before either of them spoke again.

"Next time you do that I'd like some advance warning," Dooku said.

"I don't see what the bloody problem is," Sören said. "Yet again, someone assumed you were my father. I couldn't do anything about it at the gallery but this time? What did you want me to do, just smile and nod and lie?"

"No, but -"

"There is no but," Sören said, anger thickening his accent. His eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. "I've had a really fucking awful day and you know how upset I am and right now I feel like you're ashamed to admit I'm your partner or something -"

"That's not true at all -"

"Actions speak louder than words, Nico." Sören folded his arms. "And right now, your unwillingness to take a stand for me is pretty fucking deafening."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Oh here we go with the fucking clever wording. _I'm sorry you feel that way_ , as if how I feel about this is all on me and has nothing to do with you deciding I'm good enough to fuck but not good enough to present as your partner -"

" _Enough._ " Dooku could feel his own anger building - including anger at himself. He shot Sören a look that immediately made Sören go silent.

The silence continued until they reached their neighborhood. As they rode down the street, approaching their house, Dooku said softly, "Look. It's Valentine's Day. You've had a bad day. It was not my intent to make it worse. Let me take care of you and make you feel better when we get inside."

Sören gave a small nod. "All right."

The shower in the bathroom adjacent to their bedroom was a walk-in and did not have a tub, but the guest bathroom did have a tub. It was a bit cramped for two men over six feet tall, but they tried it anyway, taking a candlelit bubble bath together, sipping wine.

They relaxed in the bath in silence for a little while, and finally Sören spoke and said, "This is nice."

Dooku nodded and smiled. "I'm glad you approve." He reached out to take Sören's hand, and squeeze. "I love you."

"I love you." Sören reached and began to rub Dooku's chest, at last leaning in for a kiss. "I'm sorry I've been in such a foul mood tonight -"

"It's rather understandable," Dooku said. "And I'm sorry if I've said or done anything to give the impression that I'm somehow ashamed of you. Nothing could be further from the truth." Dooku sighed. "I am an old man who's been through a bit of a radical life adjustment and it's still... taking a lot of getting used to. To be quite honest, I feel like I'm too old for a lot of this."

"You're not too old." Sören kissed him again. "You're not too old at all."

Dooku wasn't so sure of that, but he wasn't going to argue with Sören again. He groaned and kissed Sören back, and soon they were kissing passionately and necking in the tub, roaming soapy hands over each other. A few minutes later Sören got up and out of the tub, and Dooku looked up to see Sören fully erect.

"Let's go to bed," Sören husked.

They snuffed out the candles in the bathroom, drained the tub, and then climbed into bed together. They spent a long time just kissing, and then their hands began roaming again. Dooku took Sören's cock into his hand and stroked it slowly, and Sören took Dooku's cock into his hand to stroke as well, but try as he might, Dooku could not get hard. It was the first time since the consummation of their relationship that Dooku had not been able to get an erection. He remembered Dr. Kingsley's words back on his birthday in December, that this was a common problem for men his age, and Dooku had felt at the time he must be something of an anomaly for not having any trouble with it. But now, even though there was indeed a plausible explanation for why Dooku stayed soft - he was still feeling the residual stress and anxiety from earlier, and the additional sting of yet another person assuming he was Sören's father, which reinforced that feeling of being too old - Dooku also wondered if it was his age. And that made him tense up even more.

He also felt a tremendous sense of guilt. Sören was hard, and had a rough day - he needed to feel better. Dooku wanted to please him. But Sören took more satisfaction when it was mutual, when he was able to please his partner as well as being pleasured himself. So even as he took Sören into his mouth and sucked him to an ejaculation, he could sense across their Force bond that it wasn't quite as satisfying for him as other activities would have been - it was definitely not what Sören had planned. And as Sören dozed off post-orgasm, Dooku felt almost crushed by the weight of the guilt and the conflict inside him.

_It's only going to go downhill from here._

As much as he hated it, Dooku knew what he had to do.

 

_

 

The next evening, they ate at home - Dooku cooked, and Sören did dishes, as their usual routine. When Sören had loaded the dishwasher, Dooku said, "Sören, we need to talk."

Sören followed him into the living room. He sat on the couch, expecting Dooku to sit next to him, but Dooku took the armchair instead.

Dooku paused, considering his words, and finally Sören said, "You wanted to talk, so talk."

Dooku cleared his throat. His hands began to shake as he said, "Sören... this isn't working out."

Sören's jaw dropped. He sat there stunned for a minute and then he stammered, "What... what do you mean."

"I mean..." Dooku sighed, looked down, and then back at Sören, and quickly looked away - the stricken look on Sören's face made him want to cry, what he could _feel_ across their Force bond made the tears burn his eyes. "Exactly what I said. This arrangement we have, you and I..." Dooku gestured. "It's not going to work."

Sören blinked slowly and then he said, "Is this about last night? Because you couldn't get it up? Shit happens once in awhile, it's not the end of the world, it's not worth breaking up over..."

"It's not simply that," Dooku said. The truth was, the inability to get an erection had set off Dooku having yet more angst about their age difference and his aging, and Dooku felt like it would be kinder to not condemn Sören to a life where, some years from now, they wouldn't be able to have sex at all. But he also didn't want to argue with Sören and hear Sören try to convince him he wasn't somehow too old for this. He already felt like he had done the younger man wrong, the two of them living together for a time, attached to each other, and the break would be painful enough as it was now. His conscience screamed at the thought of making Sören endure the last years of his life, when he knew Sören had already endured too much. So he had to make this as cold and clinical a break as possible - even if it made Sören hate him, perhaps _especially_ if it made Sören hate him. _It's best you get over me as quickly as possible._ "It's a lot of things. We come from two different worlds, and the shiny new feeling that made me overlook a lot of our differences is wearing off now."

"I see." Sören pursed his lips. "So basically you're telling me it was fun fucking me but you're bored now."

"That's not quite what I'm saying," Dooku said, stung even though it would be less painful for Sören in the long-term if he believed that, so Sören could move on with his life instead of wondering about what could have been.

"That sounds exactly like what you're saying."

Dooku sighed. "Sören. I wouldn't call it boredom."

"What would you call it, then?"

"Irreconcilable differences."

"How very like a barrister of you."

Their eyes met, finally. Dooku could see the tears in Sören's eyes, and no doubt Sören could see the tears in his own.

"I don't get it," Sören said. "You told me last night you love me. And you sit here with tears in your eyes as you tell me it's over, so clearly you must feel something. Why can't we just... try? All relationships have difficulties, and -"

"I don't think this is anything that can be worked out," Dooku said.

"Nico, please."

Dooku looked away. "I've said what I have to say."

Sören let out a sob. Out of the corner of his eye Dooku watched him cry, his own heart breaking, wanting to cry himself, making himself hold back, afraid that giving in would mean not being able to let Sören go, would be sentencing him to years of pain worse than what he was feeling right now. Dooku did however use the Force to pass Sören the box of tissues, a gesture of politeness.

Sören wept, and Dooku sat there, and Sören finally said, "When do you want me out of here?"

"I don't want you on the street, so you can stay here until you find another place to stay -"

"I can move back in with Frankie. That's not really an issue. I want to know how long."

"Since you have to work tomorrow, I'll give you until the end of Sunday," Dooku said. "In the meantime, I could take the couch so you have an actual bed to sleep in -"

"Don't bother. I'll take the fucking couch tonight."

"If you need help with moving your things -"

"Right now what I need is for you to get out of my fucking face."

Dooku quietly got up, and departed to the study. Once the door was closed, he allowed himself to weep - quietly, but deeply. Part of him wanted Sören to feel it across their Force bond and pound on the door and fight for him, but the rest of him was convinced that painful as it was, he was doing the right thing.

When Dooku went down the hall to the bedroom to change, he heard Sören on the phone with Frankie. Sören was trying to keep his voice down, but was agitated and failing, and Dooku could hear a lot of swearing, a lot of "that fucking bastard" and "that arsehole" and assorted vitriol. He had expected it - indeed, his actions had encouraged that, for Sören's sake - but it still hurt. Dooku cried again once he was in the bedroom.

He lay awake most of the night, not able to sleep without the warmth and weight of Sören's body next to his in the bed. Dooku attempted to do various relaxation exercises but none of them helped. Finally, a little after two in the morning, he gave in to sleep, exhausted.

Dooku took a long hot shower to try to wake himself up, and from the bathroom he could hear Sören rummaging around in the bedroom. He made himself stay in the bathroom awhile to avoid coming out in a towel, in case that led to sex and that led to Dooku caving in and going back on his decision. Dooku came out when it sounded like Sören was no longer in there, and got changed for work.

He expected to find Sören on the couch as he made his way down the hall to head out, but Sören was already gone even though his shift started later. And when Dooku came back, he expected Sören to be home already - Sören only had a half-day - but Sören wasn't there, even though the Vespa was.

On the desk of his study was the key to the Vespa and the house key. No note.

Dooku went to the bedroom, and then the meditation room. All of Sören's belongings were gone - clothes, art supplies, everything. He'd already moved out.

Dooku fought back the urge to call Sören's cell, to ask if he needed anything, to say goodbye. He sat on the edge of the bed, just shaking, and then broke down weeping, this time loudly, brokenly. Dragos came in to comfort him but not even the cat could help him now.

 _This is for the best,_ Dooku kept telling himself. _You're doing him a favor._

But it hurt, like he'd had a limb ripped out, a piece of his heart cut out, a piece of his soul smashed. He was alone again. 

_In the end, all we ever are, is alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I know you guys hate me now, and you guys are gonna keep hating me for the next few chapters. But please keep reading to the end - I PROMISE you that you haven't seen the last of Sören!


	23. Chapter 23

The first few days following Sören's departure, after the first big crying meltdown, Dooku just felt numb. He also felt very, very tired.

He and Sören had originally had plans to go to dinner at Qui and Obi's on Sunday evening. This obviously wasn't going to happen now, and though Dooku was reluctant to speak to other humans and especially reluctant to potentially be put in a position of having to explain what happened, he also knew it would be rude to stand them up, moreso because Qui typically went all out for them.

So on Saturday evening, just 24 hours shy of their appointment, Dooku took out his cell phone. He had finished dinner - he hadn't been in the mood to cook, so he got Indian takeaway, and though he normally enjoyed that it was like he was eating just to feed himself, he felt no satisfaction. He was also in his pajamas much earlier than normal, as he was planning on going to bed soon, earlier than his usual bedtime. Dooku took a moment to stare at his phone and frown before calling Qui. He _really_ didn't want to do this, but he knew he must.

He dialed Qui's number. One ring, two, then three. Four. Then voice mail. Dooku sighed and clicked his phone off, not wanting to leave a voice mail.

Dooku put the phone down on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. He felt like crying again, but also the tears wouldn't come. After a moment, he leaned back on the couch, took his face out of his hands, and used the Force to lift up the remote control for the TV and change the channel. Dragos hopped up on the footstool and climbed onto the couch to settle on Dooku's lap. Dooku began stroking the cat, somewhat soothed by the sound of purring.

Then the phone rang, with the "Memory of Trees" Enya ringtone for Qui. Dooku picked it up on the first ring. "Hello."

"You called just now."

"I did."

"Sorry about that, I was taking a piss."

Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you for enlightening me with that information. Truly, I felt bereft without such knowledge."

"You know you missed me all those years. Piss and all."

"I did not miss the piss."

Qui chuckled. "How are you?"

"That's... what I called you about." Dooku took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, I have to cancel our plans for tomorrow night."

"Oh no! What's going on?"

"I... don't feel well." It wasn't really the truth, but it wasn't completely a lie.

There was a moment of silence - Dooku could tell that statement raised some questions, but finally Qui said, "I see." Dooku breathed out, relieved that Qui wasn't going to inquire further. "How does next Sunday work for the two of you, then?"

Dooku was not in the mood to explain to Qui there was no longer a "two of us". "I'll have to see how I'm feeling," Dooku said. "I'll get back to you and let you know."

"All right. Well, I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you. So do I." Dooku paused, and then said, "Take care, Qui."

"You too."

Dooku hung up, and pinched the bridge of his nose again. He felt even more tired now.

The next few days passed in a blur. Dooku had only been living with Sören from November to mid-February - though it felt like longer, and those few months were long enough to fall into a routine that, once abruptly taken out of that routine, was hard to re-adjust to what life had been like before. 

Dooku went to bed earlier, and got up at the same time every day, but felt as if somehow he was getting less sleep; he wasn't sleeping well without Sören next to him. Not to mention that he'd gotten used to having regular sexual release, and now going without that again made him feel tense and achy, tension building in his body.

Dooku rather enjoyed cooking for himself and Sören, or the occasions when Sören would cook for them. Dooku had been cooking for himself before Sören moved in, and it had been something he'd liked doing even when living alone - both the meal itself and the act of preparing it in the kitchen. But now cooking felt like a chore that he'd rather not do, so he found himself living off of either frozen dinners or getting takeaway, and then hating himself afterwards for being "lazy".

Dooku couldn't bring himself to go in the meditation room - even though Sören had taken his art supplies and easel out of there, there was still too much of Sören's energy from having painted the walls and done so much art in the room. As it was, just sitting in the living room, he had to make a conscious effort to not look at Sören's paintings - he wasn't prepared for the finality of taking them down, just yet.

The week wore on, and Dooku still didn't call Qui to make plans for Sunday. Qui called him on Saturday, and Dooku didn't take the call. By the time Sunday was done and over with, Dooku felt like it was yet another thing he'd failed at - he considered calling Qui to apologize on Monday, but his self-loathing got in the way.

Another week passed. Dooku received calls from both Qui and Leja, and took none of them. He went to work, came home to eat frozen dinners or takeaway and mindlessly watch the BBC, study cases and law precedents if necessary, and slept alone. Gradually, life returned to the way it was before Sören had come into it... except it felt more hollow than before. Prior to being with Sören, Dooku had felt loneliness and emptiness. But after having a taste of what it was like to love, and be loved, returning to that lonely and empty space was painful, a constant gnawing ache.

Time continued to march forward, but Dooku felt like he was trapped in stasis, a place of suffocating numb grief. This was the new normal, and it was miserable. Sometimes Dooku thought about calling Qui to vent, or even calling Sören just to hear his voice - occasionally Dooku had the feeling that he'd made a big mistake and he should ask Sören to come back. But his conscience and sense of logic got in the way of those urges; not only was Dooku still convinced that Sören deserved better than being stuck with him as he got older and his health declined, but the guilt Dooku felt over the way he'd initiated the breakup just reinforced to him that he was no good for Sören, or anyone, and Sören was better off.

February became March, and a few days in to the month, Dooku remembered that Qui's birthday was on the 8th. Dooku still wasn't up for socializing with anyone, but he also felt it would be unfair to Qui if his birthday went unacknowledged. On Wednesday the 7th, the day before, Dooku worked late, and when he got home from an exhausting day in the British court system, he saw that Qui had called him. As tired as he was, and reluctant as he was to interact with anyone after the day he'd had - after the last few weeks he'd had - he knew it was time to finally return a phone call.

Qui answered after the third ring. "You know, I've been trying to get a hold of you for weeks."

"...I know. I'm sorry -"

"Please don't tell me you weren't feeling well, because we both know that's bullshit."

"Well, it is and it isn't, from a certain perspective."

"From what I'd heard, I suppose you're right."

Dooku sighed loud enough for Qui to hear. "What did you hear, exactly?"

"Leja tells me that you and Sören broke up."

Dooku realized that Leja would have found out that information either from Sören directly - since he had presented at her gallery before and likely would continue to do so if that one angry patron didn't hold much sway - or Sören would have vented to his siblings and Leja would have then heard it from Margrét, or from her son Matt via Dagnýr. Dooku supposed it was rather naive of him to assume Leja wouldn't know, and then wouldn't tell Qui.

When Dooku didn't answer that, it was as good as if he did answer. "What happened?" Qui pressed.

"I... don't want to talk about it."

"Keeping it inside isn't going to do you any good -"

"I fucking bloody _can't_ talk about it," Dooku choked out. Then he began to cry, to the surprise of them both.

Qui waited a minute, and then he said softly, "It's a pity. He made you happy. It's the first time I ever saw you truly happy."

That just made Dooku sob harder.

"Look," Qui went on, "do you need anything? You say you can't talk about it, but from what I can tell you've just... not been talking, in general. I don't want this to be a repeat of what happened after Sayyid-Diya was killed, where you just shut down and shut everyone away."

"I know your birthday is tomorrow," Dooku said, "and I feel bad because I'd like to be there for you, but I'm afraid I'm not in a very celebratory mood and I'd just ruin it for you."

"I haven't seen you in almost a month, I doubt that seeing you, even sad, would ruin it for me," Qui said, "but I'll respect your wishes regardless."

"I'm sorry." Dooku frowned. He tried to pull himself together and not have another sobbing episode, but he could feel another wave of tears coming on.

"I know. But remember that cycles repeat themselves. Please don't be a stranger for too long."

Dooku gave a small, rueful laugh. "You say don't be a stranger, but I don't even know who I am anymore."

"Well, you have people in your life who care about you and will help you find your way, if you ask. Just... ask."

"Thank you, Qui." Dooku sighed. "I'll see about calling you in a few weeks when I've had more time to..." He couldn't finish the sentence. The tears broke once more.

"All right. Take care of yourself in the meantime and if you need a shoulder, call me. I don't care if it's two in the morning. Don't go through this alone."

"Good night." Dooku hung up, immediately wanting to kick himself for simply saying "good night", but he had too many painful emotions searing him - this grief was indeed very similar to what he went through when he found out Sayyid-Diya had been killed on the London Underground on 7/7, even though he and Sayyid-Diya had just been friends, not lovers. That had been twelve years of isolation, self-imposed exile from normal contact with other people because he felt like he was poison and broke everything he touched. Losing Sören - pushing him away - just reinforced that feeling, if anything, made it stronger. He felt like a monster for breaking the younger man's heart. He wondered what Sören was doing now. If Sören was starting to move on with his life. Dooku certainly was struggling moving on with his.

Thinking about Sören made Dooku instinctively reach for his phone. Sören's cell was still on his phone - he hadn't wiped the number yet. He flipped it open, went to Contacts, and paused at Sören's number. Before he could lose control and hit the button to dial, he flipped the phone closed, threw it down on the coffee table, and sank from the couch onto the floor, hugging his knees, sobbing.

Dragos hobbled over to him slowly, gave him a headbutt, and flomped over for belly rubs. Dooku reached out to rub the cat's belly - even though he'd been feeding the cat regularly, the same thing Dragos always ate, the cat felt a little thinner. Thinking about it, Dooku realized Dragos had been eating a little less.

"You miss him too, don't you," Dooku said.

Dragos looked up at him and blinked as if to say "yes", then headbutted Dooku's hand and arched so Dooku could resume petting him.

Dooku continued petting the cat, and sighed.

At last it was time for bed, and Dragos got on the bed with Dooku, curled up on the pillow next to him - the place where Sören usually slept. Dooku pet the cat and cried himself to sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

On Friday, March 16th, Dooku realized Sören had been gone for a month. He took a half-day from work and when he got home, he completely fell apart.

After a few hours of non-stop crying, he made himself tea. Then he realized he was out of milk, and he hadn't done much proper grocery shopping over the last month, just frozen dinners, cat food and cat litter. So he went to the store, and decided while at the store to make himself the first proper meal he'd had in a month, picking up a package of chicken legs and some fresh vegetables.

When he arrived back at home, he then realized that Sören's Vespa had been sitting in the driveway for a month, since Sören had left it there with the key. Dooku had been trying to not look at it, but now that it wasn't covered in snow as winter was thawing into spring, it was less difficult to ignore. And he couldn't leave it there forever.

Dooku's first impulse was to call Sören and tell him to take the damn Vespa, that it was a gift whether or not they were together. But not only was he reluctant to call Sören and possibly get into an argument with him about it - or worse, lose it at the sound of his voice and sob and beg for him to come back - he also understood on some level that Sören probably left the Vespa there for the same reason that Dooku hadn't been able to deal with the matter of the Vespa and had just been ignoring it; having it would be a perpetual reminder of what they had.

Dooku's stomach was growling - buying the food had triggered an appetite in him for the first time in months. So he attended to that first, considering what he might do about the Vespa as he cooked. At the smell of chicken baking in the oven, Dooku smiled; at least that was getting back to normal. He wondered why Dragos wasn't doing his usual begging routine. Then he noticed Dragos's food dish - he'd touched barely any of it today.

Dragos was sleeping on the floor near the bed. Dooku thought this odd, since usually the cat would use the stool to climb up onto the bed and sleep there. He got down on the floor next to his cat, and began petting him. Dragos opened his eyes and lazily nuzzled Dooku, purring as Dooku stroked him.

"Why didn't you eat today, hm?" Dooku asked. "Maybe you'll eat a little chicken? Your favorite." He didn't like giving Dragos table scraps very often, but once in awhile a small piece of chicken didn't hurt.

When dinner was ready, and Dragos wasn't begging at the table, Dooku got up to deliver a little bite of chicken to his cat. But Dragos didn't seem interested at all, didn't even want to sniff it to examine. Dooku frowned - this was odd, and it concerned him.

After dinner, Dooku went to his study. He Googled "how to sell my Vespa" but the first few hits took him to sites for Americans, which wasn't especially helpful. Finally, in frustration, he decided to call someone more knowledgeable about the Internet than himself.

Leja answered after the fourth ring. "What," she said.

"Hello to you too."

"...Considering that you've been ignoring my phone calls for a fucking _month_ -"

"Considering that I heard from Qui-Gon that you know what happened, and were in fact the one to tell him, you should understand why I haven't talked to anyone in a month."

Leja sighed. "I understand it, I just... don't agree with it."

"Could we not with the lectures right now?"

"No, we bloody well could not could not with the lectures. Do you understand how worried both Qui and myself have been about you? I've been tempted more than once to drive to Bermondsey and bang on your fucking door to make sure you're still alive."

"IS THAT THE OLD MAN?" Dooku heard Hans yelling in the background.

"Yeah," Leja yelled back.

Dooku made a noise of exasperation. "Obviously, I'm still alive."

Hans had stolen the phone from Leja. "Hi still alive, I'm Hans."

" _Give her back the bloody phone._ "

Leja laughed into the phone. "Goddammit. That's his way of saying hi."

"I don't need that right now."

"Yes, actually, you do."

Dooku sighed. "It reminds me too much of..."

"Oh dear." Leja gave a deep groan. "You know..."

"I will tell you the same thing I told Qui-Gon - I don't want to talk about it."

"Still? It's been a month."

"Still. I... I can't." Dooku sighed again. "And it's not what I called you about, anyway."

"Oh really."

Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have a Vespa scooter. It was... his." He couldn't even speak Sören's name aloud.

"Ah, yeah, he'd mentioned that he didn't take the scooter."

"How much has he told you?"

"Not a whole lot, just... enough." Dooku could hear the note of disapproval in Leja's voice. "But I thought you couldn't talk about it."

"No, I can't. So let me get back to the subject. This Vespa has been sitting in my driveway for a month. I've been able to ignore it until now. Now I can't. It needs to go. I've Googled how to sell it and I keep getting directed to sites for Americans which don't work for people outside the States. I assume you have experience with selling things, perhaps not a Vespa scooter, but where I might be able to sell one."

"Hm, yeah, try Craigslist."

"What's that? Is it like Grindr?"

Leja snorted. "How the fuck do you know about Grindr?" She snorted again. "Do you even know what Grindr is?"

"He'd mentioned it once. I assume it's a social networking site of some sort."

" _Of some sort._ That would be one way of putting it." Leja cackled. "Well, Dad, Craigslist both is and is not like Grindr. The purpose you'd be using it for, in this case, is not the reason why people use Craigslist like another form of Grindr. There is a for sale section on Craigslist. You can put up an advert there, and hopefully someone will contact you about buying the scooter."

"And if not?"

"Give it a couple of weeks and if it doesn't sell and you're really desperate to get rid of it, I'll take it and put it up for a charity auction. But I'd rather you try Craigslist first than offloading the scooter onto me because taking it is something I'd need to prepare for."

"All right. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem."

Then Dooku found himself asking, "Are you angry with me about... him?"

"I'm not getting in the middle," Leja said. "He's family because of my fuckbuddy and my son and his fiance. Which sounds... really wrong in the same sentence, but there you go. Anyway, he's family but so are you, which means I'm not taking sides. Plus, I'd like to knock your heads together and lock you in a room until you fuck each other senseless, but the last time I tried to meddle in anyone's life they decided to start heroin and get in debt to a cartel, so I avoid meddling these days."

"I don't think you can blame yourself for that, Leja."

"Well you know, parents of addicts always get blamed for their children's addiction whether or not it's actually their fault. You don't know how many fans of the Knights of Ren have actually e-mailed me to tell me what an awful bitch I am, people I don't even know, and I don't know how the _fuck_ they got my contact info, passing judgment on me when they've heard about the latest trouble Kylo's gotten into."

"It sounds like you need to vent."

"I can't talk about it."

Dooku smirked. "This entire family is excellent at feelings."

"Truth." Leja paused and then she said, "Not angry at you, I'm just upset that you didn't call me sooner, and your reason for calling me is to ask how to sell a bloody scooter."

In a moment of odd random humor - perhaps to overly convince Leja he wasn't suicidal - Dooku decided turnabout was fair play. "Hi just upset that you didn't call me sooner and your reason for calling me is to ask how to sell a bloody scooter. I'm Dad."

"Fuck. You."

Dooku smiled. "I have missed you and I hope you understand it's not personal. It's... depression."

"I miss you terribly, and yes I know, but isolating yourself doesn't help. You should come over for dinner or meet me for lunch or something!"

Dooku sighed, feeling a pang of regret. "I'm still not feeling particularly social, but perhaps in a few weeks."

"Hi still not feeling particularly social, but perhaps in a few weeks -"

" _You know..._ "

Leja laughed. "I know."

After Dooku got off the phone with Leja, he went to Craigslist. He browsed the For Sale section to get a feel for the types of ads there, until he'd had enough of cringing at the atrocious spelling and grammar in too many of the ads. He created an ad for the Vespa scooter with his contact info.

Then he showered and got ready for bed. He called Dragos over to join him, but the cat was still laying on the floor. Dooku came over to pick him up and put him on the bed next to him, and stroked the cat until he fell asleep.

 

_

 

Dooku was woken up by his cell phone going off, with a number he didn't recognize. His first instinct was to ignore it, then he remembered he had the Craigslist ad up, and answered it. "Hello," he said.

"Ay, mate, you sellin' a Vespa," came a thick East End accent.

"Indeed I am. You've read the advert?"

"Yeh. I got cash, I can come get the bike today."

"All right, what time?"

"Two hours?"

Dooku gave him the address and directions. When he got off the phone he had a surge of anxiety - the man sounded rough, like one of the clients he represented, and maybe he shouldn't be letting such people near his home, alone. Then Dooku mentally chastised himself, remembering the times Sören had called him "posh" and basically accused him of classism without coming right out and calling it classism. Dooku was realizing there might have been something to that at least subconsciously, and he didn't like it, having thought of himself as a champion of the poor and oppressed in his career as a barrister.

Dragos was still on the pillow where Sören used to sleep, and Dooku wondered if Dragos had gotten up at all. He woke up the cat, who yawned and stretched, and then Dooku carried him to the kitchen. He'd put out fresh food before bed, and Dragos had eaten none of it. Dragos also hadn't touched his water. Dooku stood there expectantly, waiting for Dragos to nibble some food and lap some water, but Dragos just looked at the dishes and took a few steps away, to lay on the floor between the kitchen and the hall.

Dooku didn't like that. He went to the litterbox, which he changed every day to control the smell. Dragos hadn't gone to the bathroom in the last 24 hours that he could tell.

Dooku waited outside when the man who called about the Vespa showed up, in a beat-up looking car that made Dooku wonder if he could afford the price quoted. But the man did have the cash, and Dooku watched as he tied the scooter to the back of his car.

Once the man was gone, Dooku went inside, and as soon as he closed the door he started sobbing. Something about selling Sören's Vespa felt very final, and broke something inside him. Dooku went to lay down and cry, and he was surprised by Dragos joining him on the bed, finally, headbutting him before climbing onto his back and curling up there, kneading and purring.

Dooku fell asleep like that, and woke up in the late afternoon. Dragos was no longer on his back, which meant the cat had gotten down by himself. Dooku went to the kitchen to start dinner, and noticed that Dragos still hadn't eaten, though he had finally drank some water. Dooku made fish this time, hoping the smell would tempt the cat into eating something, but it did not.

Dragos did sit on his lap as Dooku watched the nightly BBC news. Dragos felt a bit lighter than usual and it disturbed Dooku enough that he decided to call Qui.

When Qui didn't answer, Dooku decided to leave a voice mail, which he normally didn't do. "Hello, Qui-Gon. Dragos hasn't been eating or drinking much over the last couple of days and it's been over 24 hours since he's gone to the bathroom. I think he needs to see you, so when you get this message please call me and we can arrange a time for me to bring him to your clinic? Thank you."

Dooku's hands were shaking when he ended the call. He stroked Dragos and whispered, "Please be all right, my little friend. I can't lose you, too."

 

_

At one-thirty in the morning, Dooku's cell rang. Dooku grabbed it with the Force, grumbling, "This had better not be about the bloody Vespa, that advert's been taken down already."

It was Qui. "Hello," Dooku said. "Why are you calling at this hour?"

"Because I didn't get your call until now, I lost my phone and had to go on a bit of a wild goose chase. I'm calling from Obi's phone while mine charges."

"Qui, when will you stop losing things like your phone?"

"This has only been the first time this year."

Dooku snorted.

Then Qui said, "And listen, this is about your cat, so this qualifies as an emergency. I can take Dragos at the clinic tomorrow at 10 AM."

"Thank you."

"Is he having any other symptoms? Lethargy?"

"Yes, quite a bit."

"Is he vomiting?"

Dooku wanted to say no, but he decided to check and make sure. Sure enough, there was cat vomit on the carpet of the bedroom floor, though it was watery. "Yes, he's started vomiting."

"All right. Hang in there. I'd see him now but I'm not very alert and it's a good idea for me to get some sleep before I deal with a patient."

"Thank you."

In the morning Dragos still hadn't eaten, had vomited again, was not drinking water, and had not gone to the bathroom. He put up a bit of a fuss when Dooku put him in the cat carrier, and whined from the carrier on the way to the veterinary clinic, and Dooku felt bad about causing his cat any additional discomfort, but they didn't have other options.

It was strange to see Qui for the first time in over a month, and stranger still to see him in his white veterinarian coat over medical scrubs. Qui began taking Dragos's vitals, and weighed him, and did bloodwork.

"He's lost over a kilogram since the last time you brought him in," Qui said, "and if I had to hazard a guess, he's lost most of that recently."

"He seems to have been eating less overall lately. I originally chalked it up to him being depressed because, well." Dooku gestured vaguely and then looked down at his hands. "They were quite attached. In hindsight, I should have brought him in sooner than this."

"Maybe, maybe not," Qui said. When he opened the cat's mouth, he cringed.

"What?" Dooku asked.

"The breath has..." Qui cleared his throat, cringed again - looked as if he was blinking back tears - and then he said. "When a cat goes into kidney failure, their breath develops a distinctive odor... which Dragos is exhibiting now."

"You're saying he's gone into kidney failure."

"The bloodwork will confirm for sure," Qui said, "but that's my educated guess, and I've seen a lot of these cases. Dragos is an elderly cat, and..." His voice trailed off.

Dooku gasped, and fought back the tears, but they were starting to flow. "Can... can anything be done?"

"Mostly palliative," Qui said, "and to be honest, I don't know if you want to even do that. He's already lost a kilogram. You don't want him to lose more than that. He's already suffering."

Dooku choked out a sob.

The bloodwork returned a few minutes later, confirming that Dragos was in the final stages of kidney failure.

"I can send you home with medications for him," Qui continued, "but they would be expensive and time-consuming to administer and... still wouldn't buy him a lot of time. Days, at best."

Dooku continued sobbing and said, "Do you recommend... putting him down?"

Qui nodded. "You can do it now or you can do it in a few days, but in a few days he might be suffering even more."

Dooku doubled over, racked by the loud, ugly sobbing he couldn't control. One of Qui's veterinary assistants came in with paperwork for Dooku to authorize the euthanasia, as well as what he'd like to do with Dragos's remains - Dooku opted for cremation, with a custom wooden box with the cat's name on it.

"Do you want to be there?" Qui asked.

"Yes." As much as the thought of losing Dragos broke his heart, he needed to be there in the last moments of his life. "I'd like to hold him as he goes."

Qui patted and rubbed Dooku's shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"This is my fault -"

"It's not your fault. You took very good care of him. He lived a long, happy life with you. This is what happens. He's old. And it's a testament of your love for him that you want to be there until the end."

Dooku took a deep breath, attempting to pull himself together for at least a few minutes, for the sake of his cat going in peace rather than panic - Dragos was already riled up from being in the clinic. "What happens now?"

"I'll give him an anaesthetic, so he doesn't feel any pain. Then when I'm sure the anaesthetic has taken effect, he'll be given a fatal dose of an anti-seizure medication, to stop his heart."

Dooku nodded, and started crying again. Qui let him cry it out, and then Dooku said softly, "I'm ready."

Qui administered the anaesthetic while Dragos was still on the exam table - Dooku let out a sob when Dragos cried out in pain from the needle. Then Qui wrapped Dragos up in a blanket and carried him over to Dooku. "There you go, little guy," Qui said. "It's all right now."

Dooku held Dragos like a baby and began rocking him gently. Just Dragos's head and a paw were sticking out of the blanket, but Dooku still pet his head, kissed it, tears falling into the fluffy fur. Dragos purred a little, eased by Dooku's presence, and when Dragos stopped purring, his eyes glazed over, Dooku asked Qui, "Is he dead? Did that kill him?"

"Sometimes if they're in bad enough shape they can die from the anaesthesia, but probably he's just sleeping very deeply." Qui took his stethoscope and listened to Dragos's heartbeat. "His heart is still beating, just very faint." He looked at Dooku. "Do you need more time?"

"I need a little more time, yes."

Qui politely exited the room and left Dooku alone with Dragos. Dooku sobbed openly now that Dragos was under, continuing to pet him and rock him. He felt like his entire world was being ripped apart. He truly wished Sören was there to help him through this, and that made him weep even harder.

Ten minutes later Qui came back. Dooku simply nodded, and Qui gave Dragos the lethal injection. Dooku could feel it in the Force - the spark of life draining from the cat, and his spirit becoming one with the Force, wrapped around him like a ribbon made of light, giving him a little squeeze. Dooku broke down again, and Qui cried a little too. A moment later Qui listened to Dragos's heart again and nodded. "He's gone."

Dooku continued holding the lifeless body of his cat, and Qui let him. "Take as long as you need," Qui said.

"I... have a request," Dooku said through his tears.

"Sure," Qui said.

"Can I have a bit of his fur and whiskers?"

Qui nodded. "Yes."

"That's not strange to ask?"

"Not at all. I've had a few cats who've died - don't think I've shown you the memorial since we got back in touch - and their ashes are there along with samples of their fur and whiskers. It's a fairly common request."

"Thank you."

Qui took a razor and shaved some fur and one whisker pad, putting them in a clean specimen bag for Dooku to take home. Dooku kept holding Dragos, though he was no longer rocking the cat. At last Dooku said, "You can take him."

Qui picked up the blanket-wrapped body and put it down on the exam table. Dooku got up then, and Qui hugged him tight. They cried together - Qui knew how much Dragos meant to Dooku - and now Qui was rocking Dooku the way he'd rocked Dragos.

"I'm so sorry," Qui said.

Dooku finally pulled apart and Qui handed him more tissues.

"Do you need someone to drive you home?" Qui asked.

Dooku shook his head. "No."

"Do you need someone to bring you food? Obi and I can come over and cook for you if you don't want to be alone."

"No. I... can't handle being around anyone right now."

"All right. If you change your mind, it's the day after Saint Pat's and we have corned beef and cabbage. Obi and I are both half-Irish, so it's kind of the law."

"No, but thank you."

When Dooku got home he cried again. Leja called him after he'd been home an hour, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to her. He thought about making himself something to eat, but he was too upset to eat. He just wanted to sleep.

When he got into the bedroom, all he could think of was sharing the bed with Sören, and sharing the bed with Dragos, and sometimes Sören and Dragos together. He couldn't sleep there. It felt haunted.

He unfolded the couch bed - it was still uncomfortable to sleep on even for one person, but it would have to do. He fell asleep watching the BBC. When he woke up it was still night time. He lay in bed crying some more, until he fell back asleep. In the morning he felt hungover even though he hadn't had any alcohol.

Dooku got takeaway that afternoon; just the brief trip to grab something to eat and take it home was exhausting. He felt even more exhausted after he threw out the empty cartons and bags and decided to empty Dragos's dishes and litterbox for the last time, then put the dishes and litterbox away. He would keep them for now, though he felt unlikely to get a new cat anytime soon _and I might just die myself in the not too distant future_.

When he settled back on the couch, he mentally berated himself for not keeping up with his exercise routines and always eating takeaway lately. He hadn't gained weight - he'd always had a high metabolism - but he knew if he carried on like this his age would catch up with him much faster. He felt angrier and angrier with himself, and very, very much alone.

Dooku slept on the couch bed again that night, and in the morning he made the decision to not fold the couch back up again - he wasn't going to sleep in his own bed anytime soon if at all. If he didn't want to lay in what had become his bed, he'd sit in the armchair. It wasn't particularly neat and attractive for company, but he wasn't in the habit of entertaining guests anymore.

He also made the decision to call out of work. He felt bad about doing so, since he was working on a particularly volatile case, but he could not bring himself to deal with people that day.

Dooku spent the day curled up with a book, and when night came and it was time for the news, Dooku was already half-asleep - he'd been sleeping too much, but it was a needed escape. Then he was jolted to attention when the BBC newscaster mentioned the name "Kylo Ren". Dooku sat up in his couch bed and rubbed his eyes.

"UK-born Benjamin Sulu, aka Kylo Ren, lead of the shock rock band Knights of Ren, has lost a lawsuit filed by the transgender Icelandic punk rocker Margrét Sigurdsdóttir of the band Brjálaður Tíkur. Margrét Sigurdsdóttir was one of the original members of the Knights of Ren and was fired in 2012 by the band with Kylo Ren citing 'creative differences'."

Dooku snorted.

"Margrét Sigurdsdóttir's lawsuit alleged that Kylo Ren stole over a dozen songs that she'd written exclusively, using them in his albums and on tours without credit or royalties, and at least two of these songs have charted in the top 5 on Billboard Alternative. Proof of this theft was given via records of e-mail and videos. In addition to the order to give her credit on all new prints of the albums and a percentage of all future royalties, she has been awarded an undisclosed sum in back damages and an additional sum for emotional damage, including alleged harassment from Kylo Ren's fans and Kylo Ren himself. Some of the emotional damage claims involved transphobic statements and threats of physical violence from Kylo Ren and his fans, and today Margrét Sigurdsdóttir took to Facebook and Twitter to announce that 50% of the award given from her lawsuit would be donated to LGBT rights charities in Iceland, the United Kingdom and United States."

"Good," Dooku said, then felt sheepish that he was talking to the TV.

He made some tea, and after a cup, he felt that gnawing ache for Sören again. He sat with his feelings for a few minutes, weighing them carefully, and then he pulled out his cell phone. He didn't know what he would say, but he finally hit dial on Sören's number.

Instead of a ring there was a loud beep, and an automated voice telling him, "The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

Dooku flipped his phone closed. There was a moment of shock, and then he broke down weeping once more. He opened his phone back up, and finally deleted Sören's number.


	25. Chapter 25

March became April. Dooku was only eating every other day now, and still sleeping a great deal, and still sleeping on the couch bed. He was tired all the time.

For the most part Dooku's chamber was professional, not prying into each other's personal lives. But one morning one of Dooku's fellow barristers remarked, "Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but you look and sound like hell. Maybe you should take some time off, or even consider retirement."

The way Dooku glared at him shut him up, and later that day in the courtroom Dooku had a fire and ferocity in him that he hadn't felt in a long time, even though the case was fairly minor. When Dooku drove home that day he was still agitated, but at least it had worked up an appetite.

It had been over two weeks since Dragos's death, and now a month and a half since the breakup with Sören. Dooku had put the box of Dragos's remains on the coffee table at first, but now having that constant reminder was bothering him. So he moved the box to the mantle above the fireplace. After he stepped back, surveying it, he finally looked at one of Sören's paintings hanging on the wall.

He took the painting down.

Then he proceeded to go around the house and take all of Sören's paintings down. Once they were down, Dooku debated what to do with them. Just throwing them away seemed disrespectful, especially when it was still fine work that continued to resonate with him. Dooku considered calling Leja to give the paintings to her to resell, which would net Sören some money as well, but wherever he was, Sören would know where that money came from and he felt like it would be pouring salt in the wound, and Dooku didn't know if he could truly bring himself to part with the pieces besides. He didn't want to look at them right now, of course, and have that reminder, but something about parting with it altogether just felt wrong. So he wrapped them up carefully and put them in his bedroom closet.

He hadn't been in the bedroom much, apart from using the bathroom adjacent to it to shower - even though the guest bathroom was closer, it was force of habit - and getting his clothes from the closet and changing there. He tried to make those trips as quick as possible, because just seeing the bed reminded him of Sören, and it hurt, like constantly ripping open an old wound.

But after putting the paintings in the closet, Dooku sat on the bed, and took a deep breath. It wasn't simply this bed, this bedroom. The entire house felt haunted. He hadn't been in the meditation room since the breakup. He also didn't spend as much time in the study as he once did, because the study was where he'd first seen that video of Sören fucking himself with a dildo, and he'd fucked Sören on the desk in his study three times over the course of their relationship. Even the kitchen and dining room felt haunted, memories of dinners they had together, the simple little nightly routine that Dooku didn't know he'd enjoyed so much until it was gone.

Dooku remembered when he'd bought this house. For a time he'd rented a house in London proper, but eventually he wanted something that was his. And he had been so proud of it, his home was his castle.

And now, in 2018, this house wasn't a home anymore. And didn't feel like his space anymore. He'd been crowded out by memories and pain.

Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose, changed into his pajamas, and headed back to the living room. He just crawled into the couch bed rather than make a pretense of being civilized sitting in the armchair, and after a few minutes of mindless BBC watching and continuing to sit with his thoughts, he took out his cell phone and dialed Leja's number.

After two rings she answered. "Hello," she said.

"Leja. I hate to only call you when I need a favor..."

Leja chuckled. "What is it this time, Dad."

"You have a lot of connections... I don't suppose you know an estate agent, do you?"

"An estate agent? I know a few I can recommend... why?"

Dooku took a deep breath. "I'm selling the house," he said.

 

_

 

To make the house sellable, Dooku knew something had to be done about the meditation room. On the one hand, it was beautiful art that could very well increase value of the house to the right buyer, and plenty of artsy types gravitated to Bermondsey because it was well-known as being a foodie haven, and artsy types were often foodies as well. On the other hand, it would potentially put off buyers who didn't have that in mind for their space at all. And there was the matter to be considered of the Force energy in the room, which seemed to be amplified by the mural Sören had done on the walls.

Dooku put another ad on Craigslist to get someone, or a team of someones, to paint the room. He had concerns again about letting strangers in his home, and he also had concerns about strangers being in a room that had felt so much Force activity, where it could potentially affect even non-Force-sensitives, but he decided the need to sell his home and be out of here outweighed whatever concerns he had.

Over the next few days, two men came to work on painting the room, which they had to do in stages and several coats to cover up the black paint and the vibrant colors over black that Sören had used. They didn't interact with Dooku outside of professional courtesies and being paid at the end of each day for their work, but Dooku nonetheless attempted to resemble a more high-functioning person than he'd been the last almost two months, including folding up the couch bed when not in use, to fold back out at night, including cooking for himself again instead of always getting takeaway or frozen dinners or just not eating.

When the meditation room was re-painted as a more neutral grey color, Dooku set about the task of selling most of his furniture. He had decided to move to a flat instead of renting a house somewhere, and this meant necessarily paring down his possessions, which he felt he ought to start doing anyway. Leja, Hans, Qui and Obi were interested in buying some of it, and this meant finally having them over as guests, with Leja and Hans coming over on one night, and Qui and Obi on another. It felt strange to have company over again, and when they left, a few hours later Dooku would cry again, not fully understanding why.

On May 1st, Dooku moved into his new flat on the West End of London. He was closer to his job, and conveniently within walking distance of several stores and a park. Qui, Obi, Hans and Leja helped him transport his pared-down belongings, and a few new furniture items were being delivered that same day, including a new bed; Dooku had donated his old bed to charity.

To thank them for helping with the move, Dooku had the four of them stay for dinner. Discussion tactfully avoided the still-painful topics of Sören and Dragos, though Matt came up in conversation and it was confirmed that Matt and Dagnýr were getting married in September. Matt and Dagnýr had also been talking about adopting a child after their wedding. Dooku felt a pang of regret, thinking about Sören and what things could have been like - even though he felt like he was too old to raise a small child.

Hans and Leja left first, and Qui and Obi stayed for awhile - Obi presented Dooku with a bottle of Auchentoshan, and Dooku decided to have a shot, and Obi did as well. Qui declined since he was driving.

"Thank you again for the, uh, plant." Dooku still had the lithops that Qui had given him for his birthday, and now there was a spider plant in a colorful ceramic pot.

"You're welcome," Qui said. "I thought it would help to liven the place up a bit. Taking care of living things is an important way to commune with the Force."

"Yes." Dooku sighed, thinking of Dragos. And then thinking of Sören again, and the way Sören had loved Dragos... and the different little ways he and Sören had taken care of each other. He wondered what Sören would think of this flat. He wished he could get Sören out of his head, still haunted even as he'd left the very obvious reminders behind.

Qui picked up on it, across their Force bond. "You know," Qui said, "I know something else that could help you."

"I'm not in the mood for another one of your hippie lifestyle lectures about yoga and herbs and whatever it is that you do."

Qui shook his head. "That's not what I was about to say."

"All right."

Qui leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands. "I think that part of your problem - actually, a lot of your problem - is that you've been too isolated, and it feeds a vicious cycle. It would be nice for you to meet people."

"I don't... do this go out and meet people thing that normal people do. I've never been like that, not even before..." Dooku's voice trailed off, not able to say Sören's name. "That's not about to change, even if you claim it's for my own good."

"Notice I simply said 'meet people', not 'go out and meet people'. I'm not talking about mingling at a bar or anything like that." Qui dropped his hands into his lap. "It happens that I know someone who, like yourself, is lonely, prefers the companionship of the same gender, and happens to be Force-sensitive. And since this was a concern of yours with Sören -"

Dooku winced at the utterance of his name; Obi used the Force to pour Dooku another shot of Auchentoshan and then used the Force to pass him the shot glass, with a quiet nod.

"- this gentleman is also closer to your own age. He's not quite as old as you, but there's less of an age gap than there was with you and." Qui just nodded, knowing better than to say the name again.

"You're telling me to go on a date." Dooku sounded unimpressed, and felt as unimpressed as he sounded.

" _A_ date. As in one. See how things go. If it just results in making a friend, that's great. If it leads to more, well, that's also good, because you don't deserve to be lonely like this."

Dooku sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, downing the shot. "Does the other party know about this? Is this something that I have to set up myself?"

Qui smiled. "I made reservations for two at that Indian place you like, and I told them to charge everything to me. Friday night, May the 4th, at 7 PM. He'll be there."

Dooku made a disgruntled noise. "I don't really want to do this, but I know you won't get off my back until I do, so you can have your bloody way. But I would at least like a clue as to who I should look for once I arrive there."

Qui nodded. "He's American - African-American, to be exact. Bald, muscular build. He's ex-military, US Air Force if I recall correctly. His name is Mace Windu. He was in the service when one had to be closeted to be in the service and not face a dishonorable discharge, so in addition to being closer to your age, he's someone who isn't necessarily going to want to announce whatever to the world."

"What is he doing in the United Kingdom?"

"Running his own business. He got to travel a bit, and did some more traveling after his time in the service was up, and fell in love with the UK. He's still obviously a Yank, he's got an accent, but he appreciates proper tea."

Dooku snorted.

"So since you've agreed to this one date, I'll call him and let him know to expect you," Qui said.

Qui and Obi left not long afterwards, and Dooku sat for awhile just taking it all in, not believing he was doing this. It wasn't the craziest thing he'd ever done, but it certainly was one of the craziest.


	26. Chapter 26

As Dooku's Jaguar pulled into the parking lot of the Indian restaurant, he had a sudden impulse to turn around and go back home, not really wanting to go through with it. But he felt it wouldn't be fair to the other gentleman, and he hadn't had Indian food in a good while anyway, and rather had a hankering for it.

Mace was already there, and easy enough to pick out - six foot two, dark skin, bald head, wearing a purple button-down shirt with a black vest and deep purple tie, black pants. Handsome enough, especially when he smiled, as he did when Dooku arrived.

"You must be Ion," Mace said, shaking his hand.

Dooku laughed softly. Nobody called him that. "Everyone calls me by my surname." _Except Sören._ Dooku still didn't understand how or why Sören got into using the shortened version of his middle name, Nicolae, but he found he missed Sören calling him Nico, and yet, he wasn't anywhere near ready to be on that kind of basis with Mace, and felt it would be wrong for anyone but Sören to call him Nico besides.

"All right then, so... Dooku?" Mace gave a nervous chuckle. "That Hungarian or something?"

"Romanian," Dooku said, as they walked in together. "My parents immigrated from Romania during the 1940s. Their surname was a bit mangled upon arrival at the immigration office, as there is no letter K in the Romanian alphabet."

"Oh, so they saw World War II?"

Dooku nodded solemnly. "It's why they left Romania. Their part of the country was fairly devastated, and after the war things got even more unstable."

"That's interesting," Mace said. They were shown to a table and sat down across from each other. "My family's not nearly as interesting."

"Oh? I imagine with a name like Windu they must come from somewhere?"

"It was actually _Window_ and then my dad changed it." Mace shook his head, laughing. "I got called Moose Windex when I was a kid."

Dooku felt bad for laughing at that, but Mace laughed too.

When their naan came, Dooku asked, "How do you know Qui-Gon?"

"I have a dog," Mace said.

"Oh, what kind?"

"Beagle. Wanna see pictures?"

As they waited for their meals - Dooku went with his usual lamb vindaloo, and Mace ordered chicken tikka - Mace showed Dooku a collection of dog pics on his cell phone. Finally Mace said to Dooku, "What about you? Any pets?"

Dooku sighed deeply. "I had a cat. He... passed on back in March."

"Oh man, I'm sorry to hear that." Mace frowned. "That's rough." He tapped his phone. "I got Nevil here about nine months after Charley, my previous dog, died. Charley was a Lab. I got some pictures of him too."

Mace shared those, and in some of the pictures, there was a muscular younger man who looked to be mixed-race, with long dreadlocks.

"Is that your son?" Dooku asked.

The look on Mace's face answered the question before Mace found the words. "No," Mace said. "That... was my ex-partner."

Dooku facepalmed. "I'm sorry," he said, feeling awkward. He found himself blurting out, "I don't know what Qui told you about me, but my own ex-partner... was significantly younger than myself, and more than once was mistaken for my son."

Mace nodded. "I heard you had kind of a messy breakup."

"I don't know if I'd call it messy, but it was... and still is... a sore subject." Dooku cleared his throat, and gulped down ice water, squirming in his seat, continuing to feel awkward. "What about you?"

Mace sighed. "We didn't break up," Mace said. "He died."

Dooku's jaw dropped. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." Mace frowned. "Kit was killed by a drunk driver. That was three years ago. Charley died about six months later. That was why I left the States, to be honest. I didn't just sell the house, I needed to leave the entire goddamn country."

"Shit." Dooku hardly ever swore, but it was that strong of a reaction.

"Yeah. Shit about sums it up." Mace leaned back in his seat and shoved a large piece of naan into his mouth. After he was done eating it he said, "What a way to start off a first date, huh?"

Dooku nodded. "I'll be honest with you - I really didn't want to go on this date. Qui means well but he can... well, if you're friends with him, I don't need to explain."

"No, you sure don't." Mace laughed. "But hey if nothing else, we both need a Friends of Qui-Gon Support Group, right?"

Dooku laughed as well. "We certainly do."

 

_

 

Despite Dooku's reluctance to go on the date, and the awkwardness of how they broke the ice, Dooku did enjoy spending time with Mace, each of them talking about their career backgrounds and similar hobbies and interests, similar likes and dislikes and values, right down to holding similar political views - Dooku liked that Mace was already keenly aware of and invested in British politics.

"Wherever I live, it's important to perform my civic duty," Mace said.

"I think too few people understand that nowadays," Dooku said. "The system is flawed but we still need it, and when those of us with strong ideals and convictions refuse to participate in the system, it means the corrupt can more easily grab power."

"Just look at the country I left." Mace snorted.

"American politics is a horror show," Dooku said.

The waiter brought them more ice water and another pot of tea, and Dooku looked at the time - the restaurant wouldn't be open for much longer. "We'll have to leave soon," Dooku said.

Mace nodded. "So, uh, is this date over or...?"

"I wouldn't mind talking to you some more," Dooku said. "Would you rather go to your place or mine?"

"I'm out in Greenwich," Mace said.

"All right, I'm closer," Dooku said. _And I don't want to drive into Greenwich especially if it means going past a certain coffee shop._

Mace followed Dooku in his car, and they walked up to Dooku's flat together. Dooku made more tea, and also brought out the bottle of Auchentoshan. Mace had half of a shot glass, since he was driving home.

"Goddamn, I forgot how strong this stuff is," Mace said, wincing after he knocked it down. "Mother _fucker._ "

Dooku laughed. "It's supposed to be strong."

"This is like drinking a goddamn peat bog."

"What do you drink, then?"

"I'm more of a wine connoisseur."

"Ah, so am I." Dooku nodded. "I haven't been to a good wine-tasting in awhile."

"Oh, there's one happening in Bermondsey next week, you want to hang out then?"

"All right." Dooku noticed Mace referred to it as "hanging out" rather than "another date", and he felt somewhat relieved at this. Handsome though Mace was, and enjoying the company he did, he didn't quite feel chemistry with Mace...

...in part because he kept comparing Mace to Sören. He realized that wasn't fair, but he also realized he still wasn't over Sören. He'd managed to climb out of the crippling depression that had wracked him for the first two months following the breakup, but he still missed Sören very much, and rather than helping him to continue moving on from Sören, this date just made him ache for what he lost that much more.

Mace picked up on Dooku's relief, and said, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way but you're not exactly my type..."

"You're not either," Dooku said. _My type is apparently younger, bratty Icelandic artists named Sören._ "I'd like to be friends, but I'm afraid that's all I can really offer." Dooku smiled and then frowned. "I'm still... in love with my ex."

"Oof, that's rough, man." Mace nodded. "Honestly though, I still love Kit, and not a day goes by that I don't miss him. I've been trying to move on, it's why I moved, and I've, ah, had a few hookups since then, but you never really get over someone you loved like that."

"A few hookups." Dooku smirked. "Grindr?"

"Guilty as charged." Mace laughed. "Why, you have an account?"

"I do not," Dooku said. "I know about it from my ex, and I don't know much about it other than it seems to be some sort of social networking site for gay men."

Mace spat his tea and started snorting and wheezing. "Social. Networking. Site."

"Well then, what is it?"

"It's dudes who want to fuck dudes, and arrange hookups. It's one big meat market, just on the Internet."

"Dear Force."

"I haven't had that many Grindr encounters," Mace confessed. "It's been difficult to get in the mood to do that with someone since, you know, Kit passed on. My last one was over a year ago." Mace grinned. "Hot younger Icelandic guy, named Sören, lives over in Greenwich. Prince Albert piercing, throws an amazing fuck. I only did him that one time but WOW."

Now it was Dooku's turn to spit his tea.

"Oh." Mace raised an eyebrow. "You, uh, know each other?"

"Sören is my ex-partner."

"Shit. I don't know whether to offer congratulations or condolences. That dude can ride cock like he's in a rodeo."

"Get out."

"What?"

"You heard me. Get out." Dooku's blood was boiling. He pointed to the door. "Now."

"Shit." Mace got up. "Look, man, if it helps that was over a year ago -"

Mace found himself slammed against the wall and lifted two feet off the floor, and began to choke. Dooku felt angrier than he'd ever felt in his life, and he looked at his clenched fist and then at Mace, choking, and realized he might kill the man and that would be bad for a number of reasons. He unclenched his fist and began to breathe deeply and slowly, and his grip in the Force released and Mace dropped down, gasping for breath.

"You're fucking crazy," Mace spat out, and stormed out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.

A few minutes later, when the shock of what he'd done had worn off, Dooku buried his face in his hands, sobbing. And continued to cry once he was in his bed. Alone.

Wishing he had never let Sören go.


	27. Chapter 27

At nine AM the next morning, Dooku's cell phone rang. It was the "Memory of Trees" ringtone, indicating Qui.

Dooku flipped the phone open and answered. "What," he said.

"I heard that you almost choked Mace to death last night," Qui said, "and I don't mean in the kinky fun way."

Dooku facepalmed. "There are... people... into that...?"

"Oh my sweet summer child."

"Why are you calling me at this hour on a Saturday morning?" Dooku asked. "Could this not have waited until the afternoon?"

"Consider it payback for all the times during my mentorship to you that you felt I had to be up at five AM for some ungodly reason."

Dooku groaned. "Qui-Gon, that was forty years ago."

"Sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday."

"All right. Seriously, what do you want. To yell at me about Mace? Did you know that he and Sören had a Grindr encounter over a year ago?"

"I did not know that but it doesn't surprise me either. And you Force choked him over that?"

"Yes. Er." Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was a bit inappropriate of me, but I snapped, I guess. He is unharmed."

"Yeah, well my eardrums aren't because he decided to call me up at midnight and scream at me about what a psycho he thinks you are."

"Please apologize to him on my behalf, if and when next you speak to him. Can I go back to bed now?"

"No," Qui said.

"Don't even ask me to go on another date with him, or with anyone at all, the answer is no."

"I know," Qui said.

"What do you mean, you know?"

"How do you feel right now?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"A question you should fucking answer."

Dooku let out a long, exasperated sigh. "I don't feel great, Qui-Gon."

"Define not feeling great."

"Beyond the fact that I could have killed a man last night and I feel horrible about that? Well, realizing that I almost killed a man because I'm still hung up on bloody Sören, is a difficult nail to be hammered with."

And then Dooku realized he'd finally said Sören's name.

"All right," Qui said. "I had an ulterior motive for making you go on that date."

"Did you now." Dooku's voice conveyed displeasure.

"I had a feeling you and Mace weren't going to get past the friends stage, at all. I didn't set you up on that date hoping you'd fall in love with Mace and start moving on with your life. I set you up on that date so you could realize how much you miss Sören and are still in love with him and you could maybe pull your head out of your arse and do something about that."

"Fuck you," Dooku snapped.

"See? Just that alone tells me how much this is affecting you. Jesus Christ, Dooku, you need to get your shit together."

"The irony of you telling me to get my shit together."

"You know," Qui said, "when you were having all this angst about your age difference with Sören, are you completely blind or daft to not realize that there is also a significant age difference between Obi and myself? And that at any point in time, you could have simply asked me, or him, or both of us, for some perspectives on that issue?"

"Except," Dooku said, "you are fifty-nine, not sixty-nine."

"Yeah, and Obi and Sören are roughly the same age, and let me tell you, I've heard all the 'is that your son' this and 'robbing the cradle' that and 'isn't he a bit young for you' this and 'pervert' that. And you know what? I don't give a flying _fuck_. I love Obi, and he loves me, and that's what matters."

"This isn't just about what society thinks or doesn't think," Dooku said. "I had a very nasty bout of the flu back in January and it scared me. It made me realize that _I am old_ and getting older, and there will come a time when I'm incapacitated just by virtue of being old. I didn't think it was fair to burden Sören with that."

"So you thought it was fair to break his heart and push him away? How thoughtful of you."

Dooku sighed again.

"Do you think," Qui went on, "that I don't share many of the same concerns about my own aging, and how it pertains to my relationship with Obi? And he and I have talked about that, at length. For example, what to do when I'm old and senile and make terrible decisions in my obvious senility... like a certain person I know."

" _Are you quite done._ "

"Am I ever done?"

"Give me a reason to not hang up on you this instant."

"Because you haven't already. The fact that you're even continuing this conversation with me as opposed to just shutting it down immediately, proves my point."

"It has been almost three months since the breakup," Dooku said, "which is about as long as the time we were together. He's had time to move on, even if I were to try to get a hold of him and... confess my sin."

"I doubt that very much," Qui said. "After all, look at you."

"All right. I'm really going now."

"You do that. Think about your life and your choices. I'll talk to you later." Qui hung up first.

Dooku was so agitated he threw his phone.

 

_

 

For the first time in months, Dooku hit the gym. He was sore and exhausted when he came home, but the workout had provided the distraction - and the endorphins - that he needed. Despite his exhaustion, he set about making himself a proper meal.

He no longer had a dining room in his flat, and his evening routine was to eat dinner while watching television, something he'd previously found "uncivilized", but it was one habit Sören had gotten him into, and that had stuck during his grief episode, and he accepted it as the way things were with him now. The BBC nightly news wasn't terribly exciting, but he liked to stay informed on what was going on in the world.

At the headline of "KYLO REN STABBING", Dooku almost choked on his eggplant parmigiana. He turned up the volume.

"On the London stop of the Knights of Ren's Starkiller concert tour, Benjamin Sulu aka Kylo Ren had an altercation with his father, the Danish-Japanese entrepreneur Hans Sulu, owner of Millennium Falcon Enterprises, a Fortune 500 company. Hans Sulu was stabbed and is in critical condition; Kylo Ren is in police custody, charged with attempted homicide."

Dooku stopped eating. Immediately, he reached with the Force to pull over his phone, and dialed Leja's number.

Leja didn't answer. Dooku didn't bother with a voice mail. He tried again five minutes later. Then another five minutes. On the fourth attempt, Leja picked up on the third ring.

"Hello," Leja said. Just in that one word, she sounded terrible.

"Leja. I heard on the news what happened. What hospital? How bad is it? Are _you_ all right?"

"Of course I'm not all right, Dad, Hans might die." Leja took a deep breath. "I'm at St. Thomas's."

"I'm coming. Right now."

Dooku wrapped up his dinner and shoved it in the fridge, put on clothes, and got in the Jaguar. He drove to St. Thomas's Hospital, and found Leja in the emergency room waiting room. He took a moment to just hold her, and Leja fell apart on him, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry this happened," Dooku said. "Both for what you're enduring as a wife, and what you're enduring as a mother."

Leja nodded through her tears. "Ben's going to prison for a long time. There were multiple witnesses. This was public." Leja shook her head. "You know what happens in prison... and especially since he owes the cartel..." She started sobbing again.

Dooku pulled Leja close and held her tighter. Eventually they sat, and Dooku actually put her on his lap as if she were his child, rocking her.

Since Dooku hadn't finished his meal, and he'd had a grueling workout, his stomach began to growl. Leja looked up and said, "You want to get something to eat at the cafe? I'll treat you."

"You don't have to -"

"No, I insist." Leja gave him a weak smile. "Thank you for coming here to be here for me."

They went to the cafe together, and after Dooku ordered some food and they sat down at a table, Leja's phone went off. "It's Matt," she said. She took the call. "Matt, honey."

Dooku could hear Matt's voice on the other end, speaking very fast - obviously nervous and agitated - and Dooku thought he could also hear Dagnýr shouting in the background. Leja took out a notepad from her purse and began jotting things down, saying "uh huh," every few sentences and nodding. Finally she said, "All right, is it OK if I send Dooku to Heathrow to pick you both up? I need to stay here in case your dad wakes up."

Matt's voice again, and then Leja took a deep breath and said, "Look, honey, your dad might die. You can be pissed off at Dooku for what happened with your brother-in-law some other time. Now is not that _fucking_ time, OK?" Leja continued nodding and said a minute later, "That's what I thought. All right then." Leja hung up and looked at Dooku. "I need you to do me a huge fucking favor."

Dooku rolled his eyes. "I heard 'send Dooku to Heathrow to pick you both up'."

"They'll be here at six in the morning."

Dooku glared. "You think I'll be in shape to drive them anywhere at six in the morning. They can't... just use a rental car?"

"Both of them are going to be too shaken up initially when they get off that plane," Leja said, "when they need to go directly to the hospital because time is of the essence here. They can get a rental car later when things calm down, or I'll drive them. But please, _please_ do me this favor. I will owe you. Big time."

Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

_

 

Dooku stayed with Leja awhile longer at the hospital, then went home so he could get enough rest to wake up early enough to get to Heathrow on time.

Dagnýr and Matt looked none too happy to see him, but said nothing about their displeasure as they got in Dooku's Jaguar and Dooku drove to St. Thomas's Hospital.

Matt broke the awkward silence with, "He's still alive, right?"

"For now," Dooku said. "He's unconscious."

"The fact that he's not dead yet is a good sign, though?"

"I guess. I'm not a doctor." Then Dooku said, "Speaking of doctors, or people who almost were, how's -"

"Like you fucking care," Dagnýr snapped.

Dooku sighed. "I do care, actually."

"Look. If we're gonna all, like, survive this bullshit? It would be a good idea to not bring up... all of that," Dagnýr said.

"All right. Sorry for even asking." Dooku glared into the rear-view mirror at his almost-brother-in-law.

There was a media circus outside St. Thomas's Hospital, and Matt was recognized for his resemblance to Kylo Ren - Dooku, Matt and Dagnýr had to shove their way past reporters getting in their face with questions. "No comment," Dooku said to them. "Piss off," Dagnýr yelled.

Matt ran to his mother and hugged her tight, both of them sobbing. Dagnýr came over more slowly and hugged both of them.

They went to the cafe together, and brought coffee and tea back to the waiting room. Dooku sat next to Leja, rubbing her shoulder. "You haven't slept," he said.

"No, I haven't," Leja said, her voice gravelly.

"At some point, you need to -"

"At some point." Leja put her hand up. "Right now, he could either wake up or he could die, and I want to know right away, either way."

"Mum, you do need to rest though," Matt said.

"Shut it," Leja told him, not unkindly.

"You used to tell me to go to bed when I was a smol. You're setting a bad example."

Leja gave him the finger, and Matt stuck up both of his middle fingers. Leja blew a raspberry, and so did Matt.

"I love being the mature adult in the room," Dagnýr quipped.

"Yes, if I'm not needed here, I should go," Dooku said. "I think I need a nap."

Leja nodded and squeezed his hand. "Thank you very, very much for -"

A nurse approached them, and cleared her throat. "Leja Bollasdóttir Sulu?"

"Yes," Leja said.

"He's awake and asking for you."

 

_

 

When Dooku got back to his flat, just before he could take a nap, Leja called him to let him know Hans was expected to survive, but was going to need a colostomy bag, and Hans was not taking that news well. He was also fairly shell-shocked from having been stabbed by his own son. Nonetheless, Leja was grateful he was still alive, had pulled through the worst of it, and would eventually be coming home.

The next few days Dooku saw a lot of Leja, stopping at the hospital to meet with her when he got out of work. Dooku managed to avoid Dagnýr and Matt before they went back to Toronto. Leja herself seemed shell-shocked, the horror of her son stabbing his own father taking hold, so she didn't talk much, and that was OK - Dooku just wanted to be there for her, let her have someone to lean on.

After Hans had been in the hospital for a week, but was expected to be discharged within the next few days, Leja finally broke her silence.

"The thing that haunts me the most about this," Leja said, staring into her coffee cup.

"Hm."

"It isn't the thing that everyone would expect." Leja took a deep breath. "As you know, Hans and I fight sometimes."

"This is completely new and shocking information. Truly." Dooku remembered just before Leja and Hans began dating, Leja confided in him that Hans was "the most infuriating man in the entire galaxy"; later Dooku had quipped that their not-infrequent bickering was "some sort of perverted mating ritual".

Leja rolled her eyes, and went on, "Well, Hans and I got into one of our little spats the morning he got stabbed. And I say little because it was the stupidest thing. For years, no matter how much I've asked him not to do this, he puts the milk carton back in the fridge when there's just a couple of spoonfuls left. Not enough to do anything with. He thinks because there's still some in there it's not actually empty."

Dooku snorted. "He is a true optimist."

"Not at the moment, but you may be onto something there. Anyway... we argued about that. And he said, 'Fine, I'll go out and get you some more fucking milk,' and I told him he should get some common sense while he's out, and he said 'you know, maybe I won't come home', and I said, 'whatever, arsehole,' because yes, sometimes it gets like that. And we always calm down, and we forgive each other. Maybe our brand of fighting wasn't the best for the kids to see, but we always made sure to show them we made up and we were sorry for anything we said to each other. And we've been married since I was 19. It's just how we are. But this time, when he was out... he made the mistake of running into our son, and Ben just... just stabbed him. And as he was laying there in critical condition, and I wondered if he'd ever wake up again, all I could think was _I wish I'd told him I loved him_."

Leja reached across the table and took Dooku's hands in hers. "And that's important. This experience, as bloody awful as it is, has taught me something. If you love someone, you let them know. Because you never know when it might be your last time seeing them, hearing them again, and you don't want these things to end on a sour note. If Hans hadn't woken up, if he'd died... I'm already a wreck, but I don't want to think about where I'd be right now. Overdosing, probably."

"Leja. Don't say that."

"But it's true." Leja sniffed, breaking into tears. "I would miss him so, so much. And you know what he said to me when he woke up, when I came in the room? He told me, 'You should leave me. I should be dead.'" Leja began to sob. "This entire week, he's been saying that. And I keep telling him no honey. He thinks that it's not fair to me, somehow, that he's going to need to wear a colostomy bag, that he's going to need psych help after the trauma of being stabbed by our son, the trauma that will be our son going to prison for life for what he did. But he doesn't get it. I love him. I'm just happy he's alive. He may not be 100%, but I'll take what I can get rather than being without him. And I keep telling him that. I'm going to keep telling him that until he gets it through that stubborn fucking head of his."

Dooku smiled, but tears were coming to his eyes too, and not just for Leja.

Leja squeezed Dooku's hands and then patted them. "I need you to do something for me."

"Again? Please don't tell me bloody Margrét is flying in now at some insane hour and I have to pick her up -"

"No." Leja chuckled. Then she smiled through her tears and said, "Go make things right with Sören. For both your sake and his."

Dooku sighed. "I'm afraid."

"Hi afraid, I'm Leja."

" _You know..._ "

"I know."

 

_

 

Dooku pulled in front of the coffee shop in Greenwich. It was closed for the day, but there were lights on in the flat upstairs. Dooku got out of the Jaguar and slowly made his way up the steps to Frankie's flat, his stomach sinking with every step. By the time he got to the door, his hands were shaking, and it took him a minute to take a few deep breaths and knock.

Frankie opened the door, took one look at Dooku, and then sucker punched him.


	28. Chapter 28

Dooku doubled over, almost dropping from the blow to his gut. He leaned against the siding to catch his breath, and then he looked at Frankie, still glaring at him, and he started to cry.

"I deserved that," he choked out.

Frankie took a deep breath, rolled her eyes, and then grabbed the hem of Dooku's shirt and started dragging him into her flat. She slammed the door behind her.

"Sit down," she barked. Dooku sat on the couch. He watched Frankie disappear into the kitchen, heard the freezer open, and then she came back with ice cubes wrapped in a washcloth. Dooku accepted it and put the bundle under his shirt, holding it against where she'd hit him.

"I'm here to see Sören," Dooku said through his tears. "Obviously."

"Yeh, well, he ain't here."

Dooku frowned - it was late, and since the coffee shop was closed that meant what, he was out at a bar or club? Picking up men, perhaps? "Can I wait here until he gets back?"

Frankie snorted. "Uh, you don't know, do you?"

Dooku inhaled sharply. "Know what?"

"Oh my god, you really don't fuckin' know, do you?" Frankie flomped down on a beanbag chair across from him and put her hands between her knees. "He went back to Iceland."

Dooku's jaw dropped. "He... did?" His mouth went suddenly dry. "How long ago was this?"

"About two weeks after your breakup. He wasn't sleeping well, he was barely eating, he was crying a lot, in bed a lot just crying. It scared me. I talked to Margrét about it and she told me to put him on a plane and she'd pay for it. So he's been gone since the end of February, beginning of March."

That explained why Sören's cell number was no longer in service, obviously he would not be using a British cell number in Iceland. "Do you... still keep in touch with him?"

"Yeh, I do. We talk mostly via e-mail and Skype now, since international calls get expensive."

"How is he doing?"

"The fuck do you care?"

"You know, you're the second person to say that - the first being his brother - and I do care. I care more than you know."

Frankie shrugged. "Eh. He's not as bad as he was when he left, he was a complete fucking wreck. But he still seems kinda depressed. Of course, he's always been kinda depressed."

Dooku sighed. "I made a terrible mistake, Frankie."

"You sure fuckin' did. You broke his heart."

"I did it because I thought I had to."

"What?" Frankie gave him a confused look. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that sometimes we think what we're doing is in a person's best interests but it's really not at all." Dooku frowned. "So... how have you been holding up?"

"Meh. I miss my best friend a lot, obviously."

"I imagine." Dooku nodded. "What about Margrét? The two of you seemed to really hit it off, are you still keeping in touch with her?"

Frankie snorted. "I wish."

"Oh dear." Dooku chuckled. "Sounds like there's a story to tell."

"Yeh, there is." Frankie got up. "Uhhh... I should be a proper host or somethin'... you want tea?"

"Yes, please."

A few minutes later Frankie came back with a mug that had a bag of Lipton tea floating in it. Dooku bitchfaced at it - feeling somewhat bad because he was a guest and this was clearly what she had and he shouldn't be judging her, but it was force of habit.

"I didn't know how you take your tea so I did it like I do mine with two sugars."

"That's fine, thank you." Dooku waited for his tea to steep and be a drinkable temperature.

Frankie sat back down.

"So tell me what happened with Margrét."

Frankie sighed. "OK, well... in March, Margrét came to London for a few days, like she promised, but she was also here for that lawsuit she had with Kylo Ren."

Dooku nodded. "I heard about that on the news."

"Did you also hear he stabbed his own da?" Frankie raised her eyebrows.

"I did. I've been helping Leja cope with it."

"Yeh, that's fucked up. For all the abuse my mum put me through, I never once have thought of stabbing her. What the actual fuck."

"Indeed."

Frankie went on, "Anyway. Margrét was really stressed out from having to go to court and all, and one night I was cuddling with her to make her feel better. And that turned into making out, because we both like each other, and of course we got horny and then she was gonna turn the lights on so we could do it and I asked her if she could please keep the lights off. And then she got mad. Because she just assumed I asked that because I was weirded out by her having, you know." Frankie cleared her throat. "Her original plumbing."

Dooku nodded.

"And it wasn't that at all. It's because I'm fat, and I get nervous about a girl seeing my body and getting turned off. But I couldn't explain that to her. She just got really upset and she took off and wouldn't take my calls, wouldn't answer my e-mails, anything. I asked Sören to try to explain shit to her but he can't even mention me to her without her gettin' upset."

"That's quite a misunderstanding."

"Yeh, it sucks." Frankie frowned, blinking back tears. "I still miss her a lot. I really, really liked her. I..."

"You fell in love with her."

Frankie nodded and started sobbing.

Dooku used the Force to pass her a box of tissues, and she accepted. "It seems we have quite a mess on our hands," Dooku said.

"A mess makes it sound like it can be cleaned up," Frankie said.

"We can try."

"How?"

Dooku couldn't believe what he was about to do, the most impulsive thing he'd ever done in his life. "You have Internet here, yes?"

"Obviously. I got a laptop in my room."

"May I borrow it?"

"What for?" Frankie glared. "You ain't gonna try to use my Skype account to talk to Sören, are ya? He'll bloody kill me -"

"No, nothing that simple." Dooku chuckled.

Dooku began to work on his tea as Frankie went into her bedroom to retrieve her laptop. She used the Force to pass it over to Dooku. Dooku ran an Internet search for flights to Reykjavik and airfare. Then he said to Frankie, "I need you to do me two favors."

"All right, what?"

"The first is to call your aunt and tell her you'll be needing a few days off."

"What for? I... can't afford to take time off..."

"I'll make sure that you're compensated somehow."

Frankie looked at the clock. "You want me to call her now? At this hour."

"I suppose you could wait until tomorrow, but don't put it off too late, please."

Frankie cringed. "OK, and... what's the other favor."

"What's your legal name?"

Frankie gave him a suspicious look. "...Why."

"Because I need to give your legal name to reserve an airline ticket for you."

"You... what."

Dooku nodded. He showed Frankie the screen he was on. "I'm buying one one-way ticket to Reykjavik and one round-trip ticket. The round-trip ticket is yours, the one-way is mine so I can return at my leisure."

"You mad lad."

Dooku chuckled. Then he said in a more firm tone, "Legal name, please."

"Mary Frances O'Riordan."

Dooku almost spat his tea at that - it was the most unlikely name for the young woman to have, and he now understood where "Frankie" came from. Dooku typed in the information for their tickets, and his credit card information. Then he said to Frankie, "Do you have a barcode scanner on your phone? I have an older flip phone."

"I do, and why do you have a flip phone in 2018?"

Dooku rolled his eyes. "I can't keep up with all this newfangled technology. It's enough that I even know how to use the Internet."

Frankie came over and used her phone to scan the barcodes for their boarding passes. Then she sat back down and asked, "When is our flight leaving?"

"Four PM, which means we'll be arriving in Reykjavik at seven PM our time, six PM local time." Dooku pursed his lips. "Is Sören in Reykjavik?"

"No. He was the first month or so when he went back, he was staying with Margrét, but he's in his hometown now. Aku-rara, or whatever the fuck it's called."

Dooku cringed. "Akureyri."

"Right. That."

Dooku nodded; somehow that information didn't surprise him.

Dooku booked a second flight, from Reykjavik to Akureyri, scheduled for two hours after his arrival, so he'd only have forty-five minutes travel time instead of a five-hour drive. He once again used Frankie's phone to scan the barcode for his boarding pass.

"All right," Dooku said. "We have seats next to each other on the plane going there, and I got you a window seat for the return trip, which you'll be taking in five days. I'll be by tomorrow at one-thirty to pick you up, I like to be a bit early to make sure we clear security checkpoints in case of a long line, and Reykjavik is a popular tourist destination in summer, we were the last two passengers to fill that particular flight."

Dooku finished his tea and got up. Frankie saw him to the door and gave him a quick hug. "Thank you," she said. "This means a lot. I'm sorry I punched you."

"I know." Dooku affectionately patted her mohawk. "As I said, though, I deserved it. Not just for what I put Sören through, but what you've been through, missing him."

"I miss him a lot," Frankie said. "I'll have to find a way to get up to Aku-rey-ri to see him."

Dooku nodded. "I'm sure I can help you work something out if need be." Then Dooku put a hand on her shoulder and said, "One final favor. Do not tell him we're coming."

"You're just gonna stealth bomb him, huh?"

"Something like that." Dooku was afraid of being pre-emptively rejected. He knew he couldn't assume Sören was still single and would even want him back if so, but he also felt that if he had any chance at all, it would be better delivered in person, when they could feel each other more strongly in the Force and re-spark that Force bond. "Good night."

Dooku did not go straight home, but made two detours. The first was to a locksmith in a seedy part of the East End who happened to be open 24 hours. He made a copy of his apartment key. The next stop was to Qui and Obi's house, unannounced.

Obi answered the door in a blue robe over tighty-whities, looking disheveled and disgruntled. "You couldn't have called first, mate?" Obi asked.

"Consider this returning the favor when you both dropped by my home unannounced some months prior," Dooku said.

Obi gestured for Dooku to come in. Qui, not realizing there was an arrival, strode out of the hall bathroom completely naked, and Dooku gasped and covered his eyes.

"Oh GODDAMMIT," Qui yelled from down the hall. "WHAT THE FUCK."

Dooku spluttered and made noises; it was the last thing he wanted to see.

A few moments later Qui came back in a tie-dye T-shirt and boxer shorts. It still wasn't much better, but at least he wasn't stark naked. "Normally I'd be happy to see you," Qui said, "but seriously, why are you here unannounced at this hour?" Then Qui's face fell. "Did something happen to Leja...?"

"No, not that." Dooku shook his head.

"Thank the Force."

Dooku held out the copy of his apartment key. Qui and Obi both gave him puzzled looks. Dooku explained, "I'm going away for a few days and I'm giving this to you in case anything comes up."

Qui raised an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

"Iceland."

Qui gave a small, knowing smile. "I see."

"Yes." Dooku cleared his throat. "I need to have a talk with someone and it's best done in person."

Qui took the key from Dooku. "I'd wish you good luck with that, but I don't believe in luck." He folded his hands and gave a small bow. "May the Force be with you."

 

_

When Dooku and Frankie arrived in Reykjavik, Dooku's first order of business was to rent a car for 3 hours. He brought Frankie to the hostel where she'd be staying at his expense, and once her information was recorded and her belongings dropped off in her room, they went back out to the rental car. Dooku drove through the city until they came to the bar Margrét owned.

Dooku and Frankie looked at each other for a minute, and Frankie took a few deep breaths to steel herself. Then they nodded and got out of the car in unison.

They walked into the bar slowly, hesitantly. It was pretty packed, but it wasn't hard to pick out Margrét in the crowd, who was working as one of the bartenders that night. As soon as Margrét's eyes locked with Frankie's, she froze, and Frankie charged forward. Margrét walked out of the bartender's area, and Frankie made a vee to intercept her before she could take too many steps away from it, such as going off to her office in back. Once she was directly in Margrét's path, they just stood there, and then Dooku watched as Frankie threw her arms around Margrét and got on tiptoe, pulling Margrét's face down to give her a passionate, hungry kiss right there in front of everyone.

Margrét's eyes widened from shock, but then Dooku smiled as Margrét put her arms around Frankie and kissed her back, hard.

"I can't believe you're here," Margrét said. "How...?"

"Long story. I'll explain to you later. But first." Frankie scowled. "I tried to explain this to you when shit went down and you were havin' none of it. I didn't ask for the lights off because of you being... you." She swallowed hard; Dooku could tell she was about to cry. "I thought you'd be repulsed by seein' me naked..."

Margrét's mouth opened. "Oh, no. You couldn't tell how horny I was for you? How sexy I found you, with all your curves?" Her voice dropped. "And still think you're sexy?"

Frankie's response was to kiss Margrét again. "I love you."

Margrét kissed Frankie back. "I love you too."

Before they could make too much of a scene, Margrét began to march them in the direction of the back of the bar, where her office was located, the two kissing all the way. Dooku laughed to himself, pleased.

Despite his discomfort with the crowd, his nerves were on edge enough from the travel and the impending encounter with Sören that Dooku needed a shot of courage. Just one - he didn't want to be too drunk to drive. He decided against Brennivín, and went with an Egils Gold Beer, recalling the night he drank beer with Sören in the Nature Baths at Lake Mývatn under the northern lights.

After he had his beer, Dooku decided to make his way to Margrét's back office, both to ask Frankie if she needed anything before he departed, and to ask Margrét not to let Sören know he was in Iceland and explain his reasoning if need be. The door was open a crack and Dooku poked his head in.

Margrét was sitting on a chair and Frankie was riding her. Both women were naked, facing each other, arms around each other, kissing deeply. The obscene wet suctioning sound and slap of their flesh filled the room, punctuated by moans from both of them. Margrét and Frankie took a minute to look into each other's eyes between kisses, and Margrét ran her hands over Frankie's chubby belly, thighs, and thick ass. "So hot," Margrét said, just before she slapped Frankie's ass, making the younger woman cry out.

"Mmmmm, so are you." Frankie leaned in and drew Margrét's breast into her mouth, sucking hard. "Fuck, I love your tits." She shuddered, teasing the nipple she'd just sucked with her thumb, rubbing in circles. "You feel so good inside me."

"Your pussy is so wet," Margrét purred. "I've never felt anyone so wet before."

"I'm wet for you," Frankie whispered. "I've wanted this for so long."

They kissed and rubbed their tongues together open-mouthed, their nipples rubbing together as well, and Margrét slapped Frankie's ass again. Dooku looked away - he was surprised he'd watched for even that long, and his face burned as he walked off. He'd learned that women didn't normally arouse him, and he wouldn't quite call his reaction arousal - indeed it felt a little awkward since Margrét had been practically his sister-in-law - but there was something about seeing two people who were really into each other making passionate love that was just hot regardless of their gender and the observer's preference. It reminded him of all the times he and Sören made love - especially when Sören rode his cock, which was undoubtedly his favorite position. And it made him ache to see Sören again.

Dooku drove back to the airport, returned the rental car, and waited to board his flight to Akureyri. On the way there he looked out the window, enjoying the view. Even though it was nighttime, the sun was still out - lower in the sky than it had been in the afternoon, but bright enough to be considered daylight. It was mid-May. Dooku had never seen the midnight sun before, and he wondered if he'd actually be able to sleep between the light and his nerves.

Dooku's first action in Akureyri was to get another rental car, and then he checked into the Hotel Akureyri. Then, he got in his car and drove to Svalbarðseyri, using the car's GPS device. When he approached the road where Ari's cabin was located, he slowed down. He saw a black jeep parked outside the cabin - Dooku remembered that Ari had a silver jeep, not a black one. This black jeep also had a rainbow flag bumper sticker.

Dooku slowly drove past the cabin, heart racing. He caught a glimpse of a medium-haired black-and-white tuxedo cat in the window - not Ari's cat, Ari had a Norwegian Forest Cat. The different jeep and different cat confirmed to Dooku what he already suspected, that Sören was living in the cabin rather than renting a flat in Akureyri. But he didn't know that for sure. There was one way to find out, but he wasn't ready for that just yet.

He turned his car around and did a second drive past the cabin, hoping Sören wouldn't take that moment to peek out the window or step outside and see him when he wasn't ready yet. His heart continued to race as he exited the road - he felt a bit creepy for what he'd just done, and a continued sense of creepiness for what he was about to do.

When Dooku got back to the hotel and ordered something to eat, he took out his laptop and did a Google search for Sören Sigurdsson. Some of the past zine interviews Sören had once mentioned came up, but also on the first page there was a Logifugl Listaskóli website. Dooku clicked the URL and was presented with information about a small art school in Iceland that offered classes for adults and children, at different times throughout the week.

Dooku remembered what Sören had said once, when they were still getting to know each other, before they were officially involved.

_I always wanted to teach art classes. Just like it had been a dream of Leja's to open a gallery and give exposure to artists, it's my dream to eventually own an art studio. Have classes... help people get in touch with their creative side. It's a lie that only artists make art, only writers write, only poets make poetry. Everyone can be creative, it doesn't need to be a full-time calling. It only is for some, and it's not a life I recommend._

He was doing this now. Dooku felt a surge of pride that Sören had not just realized his dream, but was doing it after walking so close to the edge months prior. He truly was the phoenix, rising from the ashes, flying to the sun.

Dooku needed to draw the curtains and blinds in his room to sleep, which he disliked doing because his room had a view of the sea. But he was exhausted from his flight and the driving around and the tension. Even when he climbed into bed, he couldn't fall asleep right away, nervous about seeing Sören again tomorrow.

_What will be will be. If nothing else, I need to do this for closure's sake._

It was with that determination, Dooku willed himself to get some proper rest.

 

_

 

Sören's schedule at Logifugl Listaskóli varied by day - some days he had more classes than others, some days he worked later than others. Today, his last class started at three-thirty PM and ended at five PM; it was one of his children's classes, for kids age 8-11.

Dooku followed the GPS directions to get from Hotel Akureyri to Logifugl Listaskóli - it was a short drive. He arrived ten minutes before the class was over, as he was anticipating crowded parking in the small parking lot with parents coming to pick up their children, and that assumption was correct, with one stall available that he slid his rental car into. Dooku also recognized the black jeep with the rainbow flag bumper sticker that had been parked outside the cabin.

The building was a converted office. There were already some parents waiting outside, and a few seated in the hall. Dooku made his way down towards the classroom, where a couple of parents were waiting more closely to the door.

He laid eyes on Sören for the first time in months. He was wearing a black Joy Division T-shirt and faded skinny jeans, his usual Doc Martens, and had his dark curls up in a "man bun". A group of about two dozen children were painting ceramic pots, and he was going around the room, complimenting and encouraging them. He looked happy, and despite the ache Dooku felt at seeing Sören, he couldn't help smiling. The warm, friendly helpfulness that would have made Sören a good doctor if he hadn't had a nervous breakdown during his internship came shining through in Sören the art teacher - it was a natural fit for him.

The clock struck five. " _Allt í lagi, bekknum er lokið,_ " Sören said. " _Ég mun sjá þig í næstu viku og við getum klárað þessar pottar. Í tvær vikur getum við plantað hluti í þeim!_ "

Some of the kids cheered. Sören smiled - that radiant smile that took Dooku's breath away. " _Þú ert allt að gera svo gott starf_ ," Sören said. " _Ég er stolt af ykkur öllum._ "

Kids began to pour out of the classroom, and Sören started cleaning up the tables, putting projects and art supplies away. Eventually enough of the kids were gone that it was just Dooku in the hall, and the last two ran out after saying goodbye to Sören. They also waved to Dooku, even though they didn't know him.

Sören started humming to himself as he continued to clean up, and Dooku chose that moment to unmask his Force signature and give a small knock on the open door of the classroom, clearing his throat.

Sören looked up, and dropped a plastic jar of paintbrushes on the floor in shock, with brushes spilling everywhere.

"Hello, Sören." Dooku gave a small smile.

Sören froze, still in shock, and then he stooped down to gather the paintbrushes and put them back in the jar. When he'd put the jar on a supply cart, his attention returned to Dooku. His dark eyes flashed and his nostrils flared.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Sören asked.


	29. Chapter 29

"I came to see you," Dooku said.

Sören's nostrils flared again and he let out a derisive snort. "Oh, really. Did you now."

"I did." Dooku nodded. "I need to talk to you about some things."

"We have nothing to talk about, Nico."

"We have everything to talk about."

Sören slammed another plastic jar of paintbrushes into his supply cart. "What was it you said to me when you broke up with me. 'Irreconcilable differences', já? You told me that shiny new feeling had worn off. It sounded, it _felt_ , like you'd used me to have this new, novel, fun experience, and when you got bored, you kicked me to the curb. So why are you back here? Did you move onto another boy toy to have fun with and now you're bored with them and you come here thinking you got it like that and I'll just drop trou if you snap your fingers?"

"Sören..." Dooku took a deep breath. "Can we go somewhere to talk?"

"No," Sören said. "This is a very private, personal conversation - especially for someone who was so fucking bloody afraid of coming out - and right now, there's nobody here but us. So we can have it right here, or not at all."

"I see you've finally conceded we don't have 'nothing' to talk about."

"Fuck you."

Dooku had to fight the urge to reply with "Yes, please."

Sören pulled out a folding steel chair and sat down. He used the Force to pull out one for Dooku, and Dooku gingerly walked into the classroom and sat down at the table across from Sören.

"Here," Sören said. "If you're gonna waste my bloody time, make yourself fucking useful." He used the Force to push down a grey bin that was a quarter-full with paint tubes. He gestured to assorted paint tubes strewn across the table. "I need these sorted by color. Doesn't have to be a strict order but shades of red in one compartment, shades of blue in another, etcetera."

Dooku nodded, slid the tubes down the table with the Force, and began loading the tubes into different compartments based on color with just the Force.

"I don't know where or how to begin," Dooku said.

"Well, you need to begin somewhere." Sören raised an eyebrow, still glowering. "How did you even know I was here?"

"I asked Frankie."

"You were brave enough to go see Frankie?" Sören cackled. "How did that go? Or how hard did she hit you, I might ask?"

Dooku gave a small smile. "She punched me in the gut. It's still a bit tender, to be honest."

"She's got a mean right hook."

"Yes, she does. But she also has a good heart." Dooku sighed. "She told me that you'd had... a rough time after the breakup, enough that it scared her, and apparently scared Margrét enough that she said to put you on a plane at her expense."

Sören nodded. "I wasn't eating, I wasn't sleeping much, but I was in bed crying all the time. I was a fucking wreck."

Dooku waited, and Sören went on. "I stayed with Margrét in her flat above the bar for about a month. When she was in London for her lawsuit, I stayed with Ari those few days. When she won her lawsuit, she gave me some money to start this place up, and Ari told me I could just have the cabin in Svalbarðseyri instead of renting a flat in Akureyri, in case this place didn't do well... but so far it has been. A lot of people in town come here, a lot of Icelanders appreciate art, and we even have a poetry slam once a month."

"So this place has only been running for a little less than two months."

Sören nodded. "It feels like longer than that. It also feels like I was staying with my sister for longer than a month because that was hell month. She had to force me to eat and she eventually threatened to have me committed if I didn't try to pull myself together. So I decided to just throw myself into getting my dream off the ground. I'd lost my dream guy, but at least I could have this dream."

Dooku felt like he was stabbed in the heart, in both a good and a bad way, at hearing Sören refer to him as his "dream guy". His breath caught. He cleared his throat nervously.

Sören frowned at Dooku. "So. That's my story. What's yours?"

"I fell apart after you left," Dooku said. "It was a similar experience. I worked, I came home. I shut people out. I didn't eat much, and when I did, I didn't eat well. I cried a lot."

"I'm surprised," Sören said, "considering how cold you were about just pushing me away."

"That's why I'm here," Dooku said. "I'm going to assume you know, now, what happened back in England, that Kylo stabbed Hans."

Sören nodded. "Margrét was debating whether or not to fly to England. I heard from Dagnýr that Hans pulled through though he's gonna need a colostomy bag and he's not doing well emotionally, as one would imagine after almost being murdered by their own son."

"Leja told me that it was important to let someone know if I loved them," Dooku said, "because Hans and Leja had a fight the morning of the day he got stabbed, and he could have died with that hanging in the air and Leja having regrets for the rest of her life. So I came all this way to tell you that I love you."

Sören looked down.

"I still love you. I've never stopped loving you." Dooku's voice was husky with emotion, and he was on the verge of tears. "And I'm very, very sorry for the pain I caused you."

"Já, well... it was that pain you caused me, and the way you caused it, that makes me doubt your words right now."

"There's something you don't know about why I did what I did." Dooku put the last tube in the bin, and then leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face, trying to pull himself together and not completely fall apart, so he could say what needed to be said. "I lied about why I was breaking up with you. It wasn't irreconcilable differences at all."

Sören gave Dooku a withering look.

Dooku continued, "When I let you into my life, when you moved into my home, yes, things were shiny and new and I was giddy with the rush of finally loving someone and being loved, for the first time in my life. I felt alive, for the first time. It was a wonderful experience. Enough that I wasn't really thinking, I was just... feeling, and being. And then in January, when I got sick. That was when I started thinking. And it was very dark, morbid thoughts. Wondering what it would be like as I got even older than I am now and inevitably started to decline. I already felt guilt about you taking care of me, and me unable to take care of certain needs you have, for just a few days. Never mind the last years of my life, where I had frightening mental images of myself bedridden, unable to make love, unable to function much at all, and you being stuck with me. And I remembered how you'd told me you'd had a nervous breakdown when you were in medical school, triggered by watching patients suffer and die. I didn't want you to go through that again. And because I'd made a remark about being too old and you'd said I wasn't too old at all, I felt like if I tried to bring up any of these concerns to you, you'd just argue with me and I wouldn't have the strength to do what I thought - erroneously - needed to be done. I felt like I needed to spare you. So I made a cold, clinical break. I wanted you to hate me, thinking you'd be able to get on with your life, and you'd be better off in the long run." Dooku's voice lowered to a near-whisper, no longer able to fight back the tears. He closed his eyes in pain. "But you suffered. You came close to the edge. I broke you, when I was trying to do the opposite of that. And I broke too. You don't know how much."

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Sören was crying too. And that made him stop shedding quiet tears and he let go, weeping, sobbing, all pretense of dignity gone.

Sören used the Force to bring over a box of tissues. They both took from the box.

"I took a risk coming here," Dooku said. "It's obvious that you've done very well for yourself here - made more impressive by virtue of you being in a severe depression just a couple of months ago. I knew if I came here there was a chance you could have found someone else. Or even if not, that you just wouldn't want me, and I couldn't entirely blame you, after what I've done. Because what I'd done was wrong. I should have opened up to you about my fears and had a conversation with you about our future, rather than just assuming I knew what was best. I tried to spare you pain, and I caused the very thing I was trying to avoid. I came here because I love you, and I would give anything to be with you again. But I also know that you are within your rights, after what I'd done, to say no. Even if you do decide against us rekindling our relationship, I still thought it was important you know the truth."

Sören blinked slowly. He didn't answer Dooku right away, and when he did, it wasn't quite an answer to what Dooku had said. "You want to have dinner?"

"I would, yes. I'm staying at Hotel Akureyri and their food is quite good -"

Sören shook his head. "Normally I wouldn't turn down the offer to eat with you there but I have some food at home I need to cook, and there's enough for two people, I was just gonna have leftovers tomorrow with the excess. So if you want to come back with me to the cabin, we can eat and discuss this further."

"All right." Dooku nodded. "I'll follow you there in my rental?"

"Works for me."

 

_

 

Dooku's car followed behind Sören's jeep. Dooku pulled in behind Sören, and they got out of their vehicles at the same time. Dooku followed Sören to the door, and after Sören unlocked and opened it, he took Dooku's hand and pulled him inside.

They only got inside the front door when Sören slammed Dooku against the wall and kissed him hard. Dooku shivered - he'd been pent-up for months, and his cock immediately leapt to attention. Sören's fingers were at his belt, loosening it, and then unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers, yanking them down. Dooku reached to do the same for Sören's jeans. Jeans, trousers, and boxer-briefs pooled to the floor.

"I don't have any condoms," Sören rasped between kisses.

"There's been no one else," Dooku whispered.

"I haven't been with anyone else either." Sören kissed him again. He smirked. "Just my hand. And toys."

Dooku shivered again, thinking about the times he'd seen Sören stroke himself, or the video where Sören fucked a dildo.

Sören started kissing his neck, his jaw, and whispered into his ear, "Thinking about you every. Single. Time. Aching for you." He licked the ridge of Dooku's ear.

That was enough. Dooku picked Sören up off the floor, and now it was his turn to slam Sören against the wall. Dooku heard the sound of a drawer opening, presumably from the nightstand, and watched as Sören used the Force to bring over a bottle of lube. Sören used the Force to pour it over Dooku's cock, since he had his arms wrapped around him. Once Dooku's cock was slicked up, he maneuvered his hips, guiding the tip of his cock to Sören's channel, and then pushing in, slowly.

It was obvious that even with toys, Sören still hadn't taken a real cock in months. Sören was tighter than Dooku remembered - deliciously tight. It took Dooku every ounce of strength he had to not climax immediately, feeling the vise-like heat of Sören opening to him. The way Sören panted and gasped as Dooku pushed inside and then let out a " _yesssss_ " once Dooku was all the way in.

They kissed, and Dooku began to thrust. He took Sören hard and fast, not able to help himself. Sören grabbed onto Dooku for dear life; Dooku's hands supported Sören's hips and ass and Sören bounced on his cock, giving back as good as he was getting, in heat for it. The sight of Sören's hole swallowing his cock over and over again, the sight of Sören's cock fully erect and dripping precum, the sight of Sören's face in ecstasy and passion, the sounds Sören made as Dooku slammed into him, all turned Dooku into a beast, growling as he gave in to all the needs of his body, all of the lust and the love that came flooding out of him, wanting nothing else than this, to have and to hold and to _fuck_.

He kissed, licked and nibbled Sören's neck, until Sören claimed his mouth again, and they moaned together into the kiss. Dooku badly needed to come, and he knew Sören did as well, but he just couldn't get enough of the way Sören felt wrapped around him, the way they both surrendered so completely, where nothing else mattered. He drove into Sören as if his life depended on it, pounding and pounding, as Sören yelped, "Oh shit, oh god, fuck me, fuck me Nico, fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckme yesyesyessssss god please don't stop don'tyoufuckingstop..."

At last their eyes met, and it was the look of love in Sören's eyes, their noses nuzzling together, breathing each other's breath, that pushed Dooku over the edge. He gasped out, "I can't hold back."

Sören responded by coming, screaming out "Nico, Nico, _Nico_ oh god Nico," as he spurted all over Dooku's shirt. With one last violent thrust, Dooku came hard, his entire body shaking as he spent into Sören, gasping for breath.

"I love you," Dooku panted.

Sören kissed him hard, then a soft, sweet, lingering kiss, the two of them both moaning "mmmmm" into the kiss as the throbbing waves of orgasm took them into bliss, into that place of light where they were, momentarily, one with each other and the Force itself.

Dooku put Sören back down on the floor. They were still breathing hard, and Sören was still trembling.

"I've missed that so much," Dooku husked. "I've missed _you_ so much."

Sören peeled off his T-shirt, dropping it into the pile with the rest of his clothes, and then Sören began to march Dooku backwards towards the bed, kissing him. When Sören pushed Dooku onto the bed, Dooku removed his cape and his tunic, flinging them carelessly on the floor, and then Sören climbed over him with a growl.

Sören straddled his hips and took his cock again, riding him. Dooku leaned back against the pillows so he was neither completely sitting up nor laying down. He wrapped his arms around Sören and shuddered as Sören's hands roamed over his chest, fingers playing with his chest hair, teasing his nipples.

It was when Sören's hands moved up to touch his face, tracing every outline, every wrinkle, and Dooku saw the love in those dark eyes, that the tears came, flowing silently. He took Sören's hands and kissed them, and pressed his hands to Sören's heart. He couldn't make words to express how he felt, but there was no need for words. They were feeling something beyond words... something deeper than love.

Sören slowed down, riding him more slowly. They held each other, rocking together in time to each slow thrust of Sören's hips. Dooku's face was in Sören's shoulder, weeping, and then Sören kissed his tears. And then, smiling, playfully began to lick the tears from his face, like a puppy. Dooku couldn't help but laugh a little at this, and Sören laughed too, and then they stopped laughing when Sören rubbed his tongue against Dooku's before kissing him deep and hungry.

They continued to take it slow, savoring, needing to just feel each other, making up for lost time. Dooku rained kisses over Sören's face, then trailed kisses down Sören's neck. He kissed Sören's chest over his heart, and Sören pet him, letting out a little sob of emotional release. And then he kissed Sören's nipple, and Sören started riding him hard, even harder than the way they'd fucked against the wall. Dooku grabbed onto Sören's hips and matched his rhythm, groaning and growling as the bed rocked against the wall and his balls slapped Sören's ass. Soon his hand was also slapping Sören's ass, the way he'd seen Margrét do to Frankie. Sören loved it, nails raking over Dooku's chest, howling, begging "Yes, more." He spanked Sören again and again.

"Who does this belong to?" he growled, making Sören look him in the eye.

"You," Sören panted.

"That's right. You're mine."

Sören climaxed, shooting more cum than Dooku had ever witnessed, spraying not just all over Dooku's chest and stomach and face, but the headboard, the wall. With a shout Dooku erupted deep into Sören, so turned on by the sight and feel of Sören coming - and that delicious feeling of having claimed him, conquered him - that he had the most intense orgasm of his life to date, flooding Sören so much that he could feel the cum dripping out of Sören's ass over his balls, and that just made it even hotter for both of them.

Sören collapsed onto him, breathing hard, laughing with the sheer euphoria of his relief. "Holy fuck," was all he could say.

"Indeed." Dooku kissed Sören's forehead. "Sacred fuck."

They nuzzled and kissed, and then lay side by side, face to face, holding each other, rocking each other.

There was a "mrowr?" and the feeling of extra weight on the bed. Dooku looked and saw the black-and-white, pink-nosed, chartreuse-eyed tuxedo cat that he'd seen in the cabin window yesterday, walking towards them.

"Why hello there," Dooku said in a somewhat singsong babytalk voice.

The cat headbutted Sören, and then came over to sniff Dooku, and decided to climb over them and settle on the pillow between them, receiving pettings from both of them.

"This is Snúdur," Sören said. He skritched Snúdur's chin, and the cat gave a deep, rumbly purr, kneading the pillow. Sören smiled. "How's Dragos?"

Dooku sighed. He shook his head. "Dragos went into renal failure in March and had to be put down."

"Nico. I'm so sorry." Sören's eyes filled with tears - he had loved that cat too.

Dooku broke down crying, and Sören cried with him. They held each other, sobbing together, until Snúdur let out an urgent "MOW" and began to bat Dooku's face. Then Snúdur started licking Sören's tears, making Sören laugh and cry some more.

"It was part of why March was so difficult, besides you being gone."

"I wish I'd been there, both to say goodbye to him and to help you through it."

Dooku nodded and squeezed Sören's shoulder. "Well, there's more to the story. After you were gone, and then I lost Dragos, I couldn't sleep in the bedroom. I felt like the house was suffocating me. So I sold it. I got a very nice sum of money from the sale."

"You... uh..." Sören frowned. "What about the meditation room?"

"I considered keeping it the way it was, but I went with repainting, simply because I didn't want all the Force energy to..." His voice trailed off, and Sören just nodded, understanding.

"So where do you live now?"

"West End."

"How very posh of you."

Dooku laughed. "You know, when I moved there, I knew if I ever told you about it, that's exactly what you'd say."

Sören smiled.

"I live in a flat," Dooku said, "and it's not nearly as posh as you might expect. I'm a much shorter distance to the chamber office and the courthouse, and within walking distance of several stores and restaurants, including a supermarket. It's a very small apartment, one bedroom, one living room and kitchen combined area, one bathroom. It's about the size of this cabin, actually. I sold most of my furniture, and a decent portion of my book collection." Dooku pursed his lips. "Like this cabin, it's potentially big enough for two people. I came here on a one-way flight, to return to London at my leisure. I'd be happy to pay for you to come back with me."

"Nico," Sören said, looking serious. "I love you, and yes, I would like to be with you again. But I'm... not... going back to London with you."

Dooku raised his eyebrows.

Sören nodded. "It's like this. I can forgive you for what you did back in February, now that I understand your logic, fucked up as it was. But I can't forget it. I've rebuilt my life, here. I run the art studio where I have classes for paying members, and community events. I like living in this cabin. I was always homesick for Iceland when I lived in the UK, and being back home has done me a lot of good. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it till I'd been back for awhile. There was a time when I would have lived with you anywhere, but after what you did in February, that's changed, and if we're going to be back together you need to understand that I'm not going to take a risk and uproot the life I have here on the odd chance that you once again have regrets in six months."

"I... wouldn't." Dooku stroked Sören's face. "I don't want to lose you, ever again."

"OK. But even with that promise, there is the other matter to consider - as you said yourself, you are worried about our age difference and the matter of you getting older. I will tell you what I would have told you back in February if you'd asked - I actually had been thinking about all those things myself. Life expectancy isn't what it used to be, and sixty-nine isn't the end of life that so many people think of it as being. Here in Iceland, we have one of the highest life expectancies in the world. Apparently all that fermented shark and Brennivín is a fucking preservative, who knew."

Dooku couldn't help but smile; he'd missed Sören's sense of humor.

Sören went on. "And medical technology is advancing all the time. So there's a chance you could have another twenty, even thirty, good years. You're certainly in the kind of health at your age that suggests that will be the case. And if you're not? If we only have two years? Six months? I'd rather be with you till the end, than not have you at all. Whatever time I can get with you, is worth it to me. And that's in sickness and in health. Even if at the end, you can't take care of yourself - I still want to be there for you, taking care of you as I can. Don't think of it as condemning me to suffer because you're suffering. I would suffer if you shut me out and didn't let me in your life. The other thing is, just because I'm younger, doesn't mean I won't go first. I could get in an accident, I could suddenly get cancer, any number of things. We simply don't know what the future holds for us, and pretending like we do absolutely know, when we know nothing, is where the problems come in."

Dooku nodded, too overcome by emotion to speak.

"But, operating on the assumption that yes, you are older and more likely to go first, whenever your time comes, even if it will be decades from now - I have nobody in London except you, Frankie, and _maybe_ Leja and Hans as extended family. My sister and my cousin are here, and Akureyri is a small enough town where you get to know people and we look out for each other, here. And in London, I was working as a barista. I like the job I have here, I like that I can do art on my terms and have the occasional piece bought directly without resorting to a middleman or being dependent on patrons who decide I'm the worst person ever if something happens out of my control like theft. I like feeling like I'm making a difference in people's lives, bringing people happiness, something I didn't really get to do back in the UK. I don't want to be in the UK, trying to figure out how to start my life all over again when the time comes. I've already started my life over again here. I love you and want to be with you, but I have to look out for myself, first."

"All right," Dooku said.

"But," Sören said, "long-distance relationships can be tricky to maintain, so I've been told. It would be a lot of travel. Posh as you are, I don't know how you'd be able to afford to visit me every few months."

Dooku found himself making a decision even more impulsive than the decision he made to fly to Iceland to see Sören. "How would you feel about sharing this cabin with me?"

"You mean..." Sören's eyes widened with shock. "But Nico. Your job."

"I'll retire and cash out my pension," Dooku said, "and figure out what I want to do with myself here."

"It probably won't be law," Sören said. "There's already one lawyer for every 300 people in this country, which is a lot."

"You've taught me many things," Dooku said, "and one of them is that you can teach an old dog new tricks. I got into my line of work because I had a passion for justice, and thought what I was doing was helping others. But maybe there are other things I can do to make a difference in the world."

"You start just by being the change you wish to see in the world," Sören said. "It's hardly promoting justice if you're constantly stressed and burned out and miserable."

Dooku kissed Sören, proud of the little nuggets of wisdom the younger man shared from time to time. "I already feel much better," he husked. "When I lost you, it was like the spark went out from my life, the color faded from my world." He gestured to the window, where daylight was still coming in, dust motes dancing on the rays of sun. "It seems fitting I came back to you during the time of the midnight sun, because you are my sunshine. In the depths of my life's winter, you are my invincible summer."

Sören kissed him hard, tearing up at his words, deeply touched.

"You talk too much," Sören teased him. "We need to find other things to do with that beautiful mouth of yours."

Dooku snickered. "You're insatiable."

Sören got off the bed. "Right now I'm insatiable for food, you goddamn pervert. I did invite you over here for dinner. That wasn't a euphemism."

Dooku laughed out loud, sitting up in the bed.

Sören cooked - naked - and then they ate in bed, naked, fried fish and potatoes. They took turns feeding each other from their fingers. Snúdur sulked until Sören gave him a couple of cat treats from a pouch.

Sören flomped down next to Dooku. "I don't have a big TV or anything but I have a little DVD player and some DVDs if you want to watch shows or movies."

"I should actually check out of the hotel," Dooku said, "and bring my things over here." He smiled at Sören. "Would you like to come with me?"

"All right."

They got dressed, and Sören followed Dooku in his jeep. Dooku checked out of the hotel, and then returned the rental car, putting his luggage in Sören's jeep. They rode back into Svalbarðseyri in companionable silence, Dooku resting his head on Sören's shoulder.

When they got back in the cabin, Dooku sighed. "I have... a lot of phone calls to make. And though I won't be going back to London immediately, I _do_ need to go back for at least a week to handle the business of retiring from my job, ending the rental agreement on my flat, shipping over what I can of my items and deciding what to do with what won't fit here..."

"Jæja, I understand all of that," Sören said. "Stay here for a few days and we can... get caught up... and then you can go back and deal with what you need to deal with before you come back here. And honestly, I want you to think about it while you're over there. What feels like a good idea to you right now because emotions are running high... may not feel like such a good idea once you sit with your to-do list and you realize you're making a very big life adjustment - even bigger than when I moved in with you. You're moving to an entirely different country, with a different culture. If you get cold feet while you're back in England and you decide to not go through with it, we can do the long-distance thing, I guess."

Dooku nodded. "I don't think I'll change my mind."

"OK, we'll see." Sören nodded. He smiled and stroked Dooku's face and whiskers, kissed the tip of his nose. "I hope you don't. I'm so glad you've come back to me."

Dooku kissed Sören, and guided Sören's hand to the bulge in his trousers. "Let me show you how much I've missed you, darling."

"Mmmmmm." Sören kissed him again, and began to undo his trousers once more. "We can show each other all night long."


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming to my TED talk. :P I had a lot of fun writing this (well, apart from the sad chapters), and I'd like to thank those of you who've left kudos and positive comments, I really appreciate it!

After five days in Iceland, Dooku returned to the United Kingdom - on the same return flight as Frankie. While not originally seated together on the roster, they managed to convince other passengers to trade places so they could sit together. The assumption was made that Frankie was Dooku's daughter, and he didn't mind that so much in her case.

"I have two adopted children. Not legally, but they both regard me as their father," Dooku said, thinking of Qui and Leja.

"I don't know my da," Frankie said.

He patted her knee. "Well, now I have a third, I suppose."

Frankie threw her arms around his neck and squeezed, and then gave him a noogie.

On the flight back to London, they talked about Sören and Margrét. Like Dooku, Frankie would be tying up loose ends in the UK, packing and shipping what she could of her belongings, as Margrét had asked her to move in, and Frankie could work at her bar if she wanted to. Frankie felt somewhat guilty about having to break the news to her aunt, who would have to find a replacement for her at the coffee shop, but it was also always understood between them that if Frankie found a better job she was welcome to quit and work elsewhere. After the first feverish night of reunion where Dooku and Sören just made love, Dooku had finally told Sören he'd brought Frankie to Iceland to work things out with Margrét, and Margrét brought Frankie to visit Akureyri towards the end of that week. Sören was thrilled to see his best friend again, and even more thrilled to know Frankie would be moving to Iceland. Frankie had already fallen in love with the country, especially after Margrét showed her the Punk Rock Museum in Reykjavik.

Once back in London, Dooku bought another one-way ticket for himself in two weeks' time. Then he set about the business of putting in his retirement notice and cashing out his pension, cancelling his rental agreement, and deciding what he'd pack to have shipped to Iceland and what he'd part with. Being that Sören lived in a small cabin in Iceland that was already furnished, he was going to have to part with most of the rest of what he had, and only ship things like clothes and various personal affects - including the paintings by Sören that he'd been keeping in a closet and hadn't rehung since he took them down in his old place in Bermondsey. If there wasn't room for them to be hung up at the cabin, they could at least be displayed at Logifugl Listaskóli.

More difficult than going through his possessions was breaking the news. He felt somewhat guilty about going to Iceland when Leja was still in emotional upheaval about Kylo stabbing Hans. And he also felt guilty when he'd only just reconciled with Qui months ago.

His first meeting with his chosen family was with Leja. He stopped at the house she shared with Hans, and had dinner with both of them. Hans seemed in somewhat better spirits than when he initially woke up in the hospital, though Dooku wondered how much of that was a front for company's sake. After dinner Hans gave Dooku and Leja some time alone, going off to his "man cave" to play a video game, and Dooku and Leja sat in her living room with tea.

"I feel like I'm abandoning you," Dooku said.

"You're not," Leja said. "It's not like Hans and I can't afford to travel, and I imagine you might convince Sören to at least visit London with you once in awhile, as a vacation." Leja ran a hand through her hair. "To be honest, after the media circus that's been following us around after the stabbing, Hans and I have been thinking about getting out of here for awhile. Maybe even getting a summer home in Iceland. And I haven't seen my brother in ages."

Dooku nodded. "A change of scenery might do both of you some good."

"Especially Hans. I'm hoping that Iceland might provide the right kind of romantic atmosphere to help him be comfortable enough with... uh, you know."

Dooku laughed. "I know."

Then there was the talk with Qui, having dinner at Qui and Obi's one last time.

"You're absolutely sure about this?" Qui asked.

Dooku nodded. "Sören told me to think about it, and make sure I was really sure. But I feel like most of the problems I've had in my life have been a direct result of overthinking everything - including and especially the time Sören and I were apart. Logic would dictate this is a non-trivial move, decided on impulse, and maybe I should take more time to think, maybe not go through with this at all. But my heart tells me this is right. This is what I need."

Qui patted Dooku's shoulder. "Then I support it."

"I will say what I said to Leja - I feel somewhat guilty, like I'm abandoning you."

Qui shook his head. "I would feel guilty if you thought you needed to stay here for my sake, and not go be with the man you love. It's not like we can't e-mail or talk over Skype, and... well, I can finally convince Obi to go on vacation once in awhile. I've always wanted to see Iceland. I've only ever seen pictures of it and it's breathtaking, it seems like a place where the Living Force would be very strong. So in a way you're doing us a favor, giving me an excuse to drag Obi along with me to see you once or twice a year."

The hardest part of the two weeks in London wasn't packing and donating or selling the rest of his belongings, or even announcing the move to Leja and Qui. It was being apart from Sören, himself. They talked every night via Skype - more than once, it led to masturbating together, which was a new experience for him; watching Sören play with a dildo led to an especially intense orgasm. But it wasn't the same as physically being there, and Dooku could tell that Sören had some fears that he'd been overthinking the move and would change his mind and stay in London after all.

The big day came, feeling like it took two months instead of two weeks. Qui drove Dooku to Heathrow, since Dooku had at that point sold his Jaguar. They arrived early enough to grab a bite to eat together, and then held each other for awhile before Dooku departed to his gate.

Qui put his hands on Dooku's shoulders. "I'm proud of you," he said.

"If I've never said this before," Dooku said, "I'm also proud of you. I know that years ago, when you decided not to go through with completing law school and went into veterinary medicine instead, I gave you something of a hard time. It's become one of my biggest regrets. I completely understand now why you did what you did... what you needed to do. I wish I had learned from your example, but it's helped guide me now."

Qui hugged Dooku again. "Get out of here before I flood the airport with crying."

Sören was waiting at the airport in Reykjavik. When they saw each other they just stood there for a moment - as if Sören couldn't believe this was real and really happening - and then Sören ran to him. Dooku picked him up and kissed him right there in front of everyone.

Halfway through the drive up to Akureyri, Sören pulled the jeep over, dragged Dooku out, and they fucked right there on the ground like two animals in heat, Sören on all fours, Dooku taking him from behind. Sören shot his cum onto the jeep, and made remarks once they got back in the jeep about how they'd christened it.

When they finally arrived at the cabin in Svalbarðseyri, they started undressing as soon as they got inside. Sören rode him, more slowly this time, and as they got closer to the edge, Dooku rolled Sören onto his back and slowed down even more. Sören wrapped his arms around him and they kissed deeply. The slow, sweet fuck was just what they needed, and it brought tears to their eyes, kissing each other's tears as their hips rolled together.

But at last the sensation built up into urgency once more. Dooku fucked harder and then more slowly, edging them again and again, until Sören whimpered, "Nico, _please_."

"Please what, darling?"

"Make me come," Sören panted. "Come with me." He kissed Dooku and whispered, "Touch the Force with me."

They took each other's hands as they climaxed together, squeezing each other's hands with each pulse of their orgasm. It was like being bathed in fire, and then drifting on clouds, basking in the glory of the eternal sun. They both wept again, shattered by their release, and said "I love you" between hungry kisses, deep kisses, like kissing each other's souls.

When they'd been finished for awhile and were laying there in the afterglow, legs entwined, Sören's head in Dooku's chest as he pet and stroked him, Sören broke the silence. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back," Sören said.

"I know," Dooku said.

"I know I told you to think about it, and I hope you did. But I worried that you'd... think too much. That you'd come to the same conclusion you did in February."

Dooku sighed. He sat up, and pulled Sören up with him. He put his hands on Sören's shoulders. "I wish there was something I could say or do, to prove to you that I'm not going to do that to you again. It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I learned my lesson. I don't want you to always be afraid that I'm going to abandon you." He stroked Sören's cheek and beard.

Sören took a moment, weighing his response. Then he sighed and said, "Well, there is one thing."

Dooku waited. He watched as Sören used the Force to open the bedtable drawer. Out came the snake Willy Warmer that Sören had bought as a gag gift back in November.

"I know you're supposed to do this with a ring, but this is the closest thing I have to that at the moment." Sören smirked and held out the Willy Warmer. "Will you marry me?"

Dooku's jaw dropped. "You're proposing to me with... that."

"Já."

"That is... the most you... thing... you've ever done."

"Are you going to answer the fucking question or not?"

Dooku started laughing, and the mock-irate look on Sören's face made him laugh even more. He nodded and said simply, "Yes."

They slipped it onto Dooku's spent cock together, laughing until they wheezed and teared up.

 

_

 

On Friday, September 21st, the fall equinox, Dagnýr and Matt were married in Reykjavik - Canadians could legally marry in other countries, and Dagnýr and Matt had decided that was where they wanted the ceremony performed, with a honeymoon in Iceland.

That wedding was a double wedding. Sören and Dooku also took their vows to each other in the same ceremony.

In addition to Margrét, Frankie and Ari as wedding guests, Leja, Hans, Qui and Obi had come out to attend the wedding. Qui and Obi lamented having to be away from their cats for two weeks - they'd hired a cat sitter to stay at their house, and just before the ceremony Qui helped Dooku relax by showing him video footage from the sitter of the cats at play.

Though the wedding wasn't exactly traditional, Sören still carried a bouquet of flowers, tossing it at the end. Some of the unmarried members of his art school rushed to catch it, but it landed in Frankie's hands, who laughed and blushed.

Margrét cleared her throat loudly, calling attention to herself, and everyone watched as Margrét walked over to her girlfriend and got on her knees, pulling out a small box. There was a diamond ring inside. "Marry me?"

Frankie screamed so loud it was a wonder nobody called the police. She threw her arms around Margrét's neck and Margrét picked her up and they kissed again and again, as Margrét slipped the ring onto Frankie's left ring finger.

Leja was the first to congratulate them. She and Margrét exchanged a passionate kiss, which turned into Leja, Margrét and Frankie taking turns kissing, and Hans finally announced loudly, "I think I'm interested in sex again."

Leja gave him a wicked grin. "Good, my evil plan is working."

Dooku decided payback was in order. "Hi interested in sex again, I'm -"

"Get out," Hans joked.

"Yes, I think we will get out," Dooku said. He turned to Sören and they kissed. "Shall we get back to our hotel room?"

Their first act as a newly married couple was to soak in the hotel room's hot tub together, drinking champagne. Eventually, cuddling turned to kissing, then more feverish necking and groping. They got out of the hot tub and kissed all the way to their bed.

Dooku lay on his back and Sören worshiped his body, kissing and licking him all over, at last rimming him, bringing him close to climax just from the exquisite work of his tongue. Before Dooku could come from Sören's tongue, he took Sören's hand and whispered, "Please."

Sören stopped licking and looked up at him.

"I want to feel you."

Sören teased him by sucking his cock slowly, licking with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue as he worked slick fingers inside him, one, then two, then three. When Dooku was ready, Sören came up, kissing him with his tongue soaked with precum as he pushed inside, slowly. Dooku breathed through the burn - he was still so tight - and then Sören was all the way in, and everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

Sören fucked him slowly, gently, sweetly. They kissed and kissed, nuzzled, hands roaming over each other, lost in a haze of sensuality that they never wanted to end. 

Sören put his hand on Dooku's heart and kissed along his jaw, nuzzling his beard. "I love you, my husband."

"Mmmmm." Dooku kissed him hard. "I love it when you call me that."

"Mmmmmmm." Sören kissed him back. "Já, my husband likes that?"

"Yes." Dooku didn't quite understand why that was adding to his arousal, but it was.

Sören played it up for all it was worth, fucking him a little harder, saying things like "My husband has such a hot arse," and "I love fucking my husband" and "I want to make my husband come so fucking hard."

At the end Sören had Dooku's leg propped up on his shoulder and was nailing him so hard the bed rocked against the wall. His hand stroked Dooku's cock in the same rhythm as his thrusts, and Dooku grabbed the headboard, white-knuckled; the piercing in Sören's cock rubbing on his prostate was so good it was almost unbearable. He couldn't even speak now, just make incoherent noises.

"That's right," Sören growled. "This is mine. You're mine..."

Dooku came hard, shooting all over Sören, and Sören screamed as his own climax hit; the sight of Sören throwing back his head and crying out, the feel of his cum shooting into him made Dooku cry out again, letting out another blast of cum over Sören's chest.

Sören collapsed onto him and they kissed, and then Dooku wiped some of the cum from Sören's body onto his fingers and stuck them in Sören's mouth. "Mmmmmmmm." Sören licked and sucked them clean; watching Sören lick and suck his fingers made Dooku harden again.

"Oh my, what do we have here?" Sören ran a teasing finger down the length of Dooku's cock, and then back up, rubbing the slit.

Dooku's response was to growl and nip Sören's neck as he moved his hips so Sören slipped out of him, and then he grabbed Sören, maneuvered Sören onto all fours, and used the Force to lube Sören's ass and his cock. Dooku kissed Sören's neck and nape, and took the part where the neck met the shoulder between his teeth as he pushed into Sören.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Sören panted.

Dooku fucked him hard at first, but towards the end, just before they could both come, he slowed down, teasing them both. And then his arms wrapped around Sören from behind and he nuzzled Sören's neck, kissed it, tilted Sören's face so they could kiss. His arms tightened around Sören and he whispered, "I will never let you go." He nipped Sören's lower lip hard enough to draw blood and tasted it, and rasped, "You're mine."

There was that look of shock on Sören's face as his orgasm overtook him, which gave way to a look of pure joy as he cried out, "Nico, Nico, yes... yes, Nico..."

"Oh, fuck." The feeling of Sören trembling and pulsing around him set off Dooku's orgasm - he'd wanted to keep it going, but it was too much. Too good. He shuddered as he spent into Sören again and again. "I love you. Oh, Sören, I love you. _I love you._ "

They collapsed onto the bed together, and Dooku buried his face into Sören's curls, breathing his scent, his entire body melting. It was awhile before they came to, sitting up to have some water, which turned into feeding each other snacks they'd taken home from the wedding reception, naked in bed.

Then they just held each other. After a time, Sören put his hand on Dooku's heart, and then Dooku also put his hand on Sören's heart. They were wearing matching wedding bands now, simple white gold rings, and Sören took Dooku's hand to kiss the ring before placing it back on his heart.

"My husband." Sören stroked Dooku's face and whiskers with his free hand.

Dooku gave a little groan. "I don't know why you calling me that gets me going, but it does." He groaned again. "I wish I weren't so spent, or I'd..."

Sören laughed. "It's all right. We have all night." Sören kissed the tip of his nose and husked, "We have the rest of our lives."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bundin við hjarta þitt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687687) by [verhalen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen)




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